


The Fox and the Wolf

by cyran9



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish, Dread Wolf, Elven sex God, F/M, Fade Tongue, Ok it's smutty, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Solas Romance, Solavellan, fade thighs, kinda smutty, ma'alin, solasmance, solavellan hell, the canon storyline is my playground, vhenan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-12 09:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 134,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyran9/pseuds/cyran9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ma'alin, the Dalish Inquisitor, finds there are more questions than answers when it comes to Solas. He challenges her in ways no one ever has, and tempts her to reveal the secrets she keeps closely hidden. No damsel in distress, she is not afraid to go toe-to-toe with the mage and break down his cool barriers. </p><p>Solas finds himself curious and intrigued with her reserved nature and quiet, mischievous smile. What he finds, the woman he discovers, challenges him and leaves him wanting more, daring to hope, considering a world where they could all be real like her, and discovering their lives are more intertwined than he could have ever imagined. </p><p>Is it fate or is it coincidence? One can never tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lavellan

Solas entered the rotunda, seeking his comfy chair and desk with the intention of perusing a set of new manuscripts Josephine had acquired for him on the fade. She'd balked at the length of his list of desired tomes but she had come through on the majority of his requests. However, upon entering the quiet space he had claimed in the tower, he saw a pair of long, lithe legs that stretched from the seat of his comfy chair to a pair of soft, black boots perched upon his table edge and manuscripts.

Ah, the Inquisitor. His irritation at the invasion of his personal space was slightly lessened. She had a habit of showing up unannounced in the personal spaces of others. Solas had seen her leaning against the knees of the Tevinter in the library as he sat reading aloud to her. They seemed especially close. She would place her hand upon his as that rested protectively upon her shoulder. They took turns reading over Tevinter and Chantry history together, and they spent many hours thus. More than once, Solas had observed her casually slide her hips onto Commander Cullen’s desk and perch so that her small feet dangled above the floor. This is how she listened to his daily reports, legs crossed and chest leaning upon her knees, with her rear-end on his neatly piled papers…much to the Commander’s chagrin and distraction. She and Varric were so tightly bound that she had taken the liberty of running her fingers over Bianca’s bow strings while he wrote his business letters. He had stopped correcting her but the God’s mercy to anyone else who tried. Cassandra was not immune to her familiar attentions either. The Inquisitor, upon learning Cassandra’s singular taste in literature, had made it her personal duty to read aloud chapters from such books to Cassandra in the courtyard as she trained. The more risque the chapter, the harder Cassandra swung. He attributed these displays of familiarity to her need to be close with her clan, a clan that she was perhaps forever separated from. Now it would seem her attention had at last turned to him. He could not say he was displeased. They had barely spoken two words to one another in Haven and she had not sought his counsel. Initial travel in the Hinterlands found her polite, quiet, friendly but not inviting. Solas noted that she observed her companions more than she interacted with them and wondered just how cautious her Dalish upbringing had made her. 

She took no notice of him as he approached, but sat focused upon her books which were spread out upon his papers. He noted his research on the fade was pushed to the side. She had been searching for something. 

"Inquisitor…" She looked up from her study with a small furrow in her brow, focusing upon him as her eyes met his. 

"Solas. I wanted to compare your notes with mine. I hope you don’t mind. Something is troubling me. I’m hoping I can gather enough research to send to my Keeper. Perhaps she will have some insight."

Solas noted that she did not wait for his response but it was of no matter. His curiosity was piqued. “What is it you seek? May I be of some assistance?”

The Inquisitor’s furrow returned to her brow and her gaze returned to her book. “My clan is not from here. We spent much of our time north on the outer reaches of Orlais. I have never seen the Dales before. The types of statues, and the sheer number of them, is troubling to me.” She flipped a page and pointed to a depiction of a wolf, head back and howling. His jaw clenched. They had only briefly stepped into the outskirts of the Dales but it had been enough to make an impression it seemed. 

"See this?" she said. "This is the depiction of the Dread Wolf that I know. He is to be feared, avoided, a mark of caution. But this….this is not what I see in the Dales. That wolf is different. It is relaxed, reposed, calm….revered, even. Those statues are ancient, I know it. But I can’t find any references to their meaning, to who built them, or why. They do not strike me as Dalish. And there are so damn many of them!"

Solas leaned in casually closer and rested his hips against the desk, next to her boots, still perched upon his papers. “Perhaps it is something we will discover in our travels. I would not lose sleep over it.”

She looked up him curiously as if trying to read him. Her eyes were searching his face and he had to suppress a smirk at the flash of mischief he saw there in her eyes. She looked away with a sigh. "There are too many questions, and not enough answers." She reached for another book and began flipping pages. Solas crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes narrowed. 

"You can read." he said. It wasn't a question. He had observed her reading to Cassandra and with Dorian. She didn't bother to look up at him. "Yes, I can read. If I were simply looking for pictures in your books I would be sorely disappointed. At least Cass' books have naughty bits to entertain. This is all so..." She did not finish her sentence, drawn to a paragraph on the Dread Wolf's depictions in art. 

Solas found a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Her clan must be quite progressive. He'd met few Dalish that could read. He pressed his lips together and forced a serious face. He reminded himself they were not on familiar terms. However, such proximity allowed him to be a close observer for once. His eyes followed the lines of the valasslin, pale gold and branching over her cheekbones. They were much more subtle than those worn by most Dalish. He began to wonder what else was different about her. Solas redirected his gaze to the walls of the rotunda, to wait out her silence, only to find that his gaze had wandered back and was drawn to her neck and a pendant of a symbol that lay just barely exposed under her collar. His eyes narrowed. Was that a halla? A rabbit? He could not make it out.

"Tell me, Inquisitor, what is the meaning of the symbol you wear? Is that a totem? A symbol of your clan?" He reached out to her, fingers extended, asking permission.

That pulled her attention from her studies. Her eyes lit up with pride as she pulled the chain from beneath her shirt and let the pendant rest in his outstretched hand. He could feel her body heat radiating from the silver metal. 

"Yes, it was given to me by my keeper when I was chosen as her first. It is the fox. She said it reminded her of me."

Solas turned the braided metal over in his fingers, admired the craftsmanship of the delicate fox features in glyph form, then gingerly placed it back upon her neck, careful not to touch her bare skin. 

"A fox. Curious, I have never known many Dalish to honor the fox. They say they are kin to the Dread Wolf, a creature of suspicion."

Her small smile turned into a large grin. There was the mischievous look again. “Yes, so I’ve been told.” She tucked the pendant back into her collar and rose from his chair, soft boots hitting the floor. She leaned into his shoulder as she gathered her books. He closed his eyes for a moment as he felt her body press against his arm. He could smell her. Jasmine, rain water, and peach. She reminded him of nights spent dreaming under the summer stars in lost temples. She was intoxicating.

The Inquisitor turned on her heel, books in her arms, and began to stride to the door. He could not help himself.

"Inquisitor…" She stopped, turned to him, looked at him with her large grey-green eyes. 

"Yes, Solas?" He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help it, curiosity was eating him alive.

"Tell me your name, Lethallan." Her head tilted, eyes narrowed. There was that mischievous look again. He was surprised at how it made his pulse dance.

"Why, so you can mock that, too?" Her words were sharp but without malice. Ah, there it was. There was reason she had avoided him. She had overheard his discussions with Varric about the Dalish, no doubt, and been offended. 

"I am sorry if I have offended you, it was not my intention." He stood, all apologies and politeness, and began to turn back to his desk when she stepped towards him. She stood before him, unwavering, and stood close enough to him so that any curious Tevinter ears in the room above would not be able to hear her. She was close enough that he could smell her, feel her warmth again. 

"Solas, you mock my people. But you are one of them, too. And before you try to correct me, because you always try, you should remember that we have the same blood. I am just like you. You'd do well to remember that."

She lingered for just a moment, chin turned up to him, lips so close, eyes still searching his stoic gaze. Slowly she turned away. His heart was pulsing slowly, loudly, ringing in his ears and he could feel his breath had grown heavier. Just like him? She was declaring them equals. She was no simpering flower, not like other women who had tried to entice him with their damsel in distress guise. 

Her confidence made him bolder. She was almost to the door. He would not let her slip away so easily. 

"Your name, lethallan. I would have it." His voice sounded huskier than he had intended, his words more familiar in their address. 

She glanced over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised in amusement at his choice of words, and she called out with a slight smile upon her lips.

"If you must have it, it’s Ma’alin. But I wonder what you intend to do with with it?" There was one final glance from eyes that danced with mischief as she exited through the heavy door. 

Ma’alin. He could feel a wicked smile begin to spread across his lips and he rubbed his hand across his mouth in an effort to still it lest any should see. He knew that word but it was not Dalish. Malin was Orlesian. Whoever had named her, parent or keeper, had done well at appropriating the Orlesian language to fit their needs and clan traditions. It was almost too perfect. Perhaps her clan was much, much more progressive than he originally surmised. 

Ma’alin. He let the syllables roll off his tongue in a whisper. 

Malin in Orlesian meant crafty, cunning, mischievous, and wise.

It was also their word for fox. The Dalish had made it Ma’alin. My fox. 

Solas smiled to himself and settled into his comfy chair, absently running his fingers along the arms where she had rested her body. 

She was no halla. No rabbit. She was not even the type of Dalish he was familiar with. She was so much more. 

A wolf would have to be wary of her cunning and keen awareness, but a wolf could appreciate all the wondrous things others did not see about this spry fox.

Solas leaned into his chair and closed his eyes to slow his pulse. 

He would start with the fire in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make a Lavellan that could go toe-to-toe with Solas and give him as much snark and sass as he likes to give. I think the banter would intrigue him.
> 
> Fade-tongue hasn't happened yet, but it will. This will mostly follow the traditional storyline.
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed it!


	2. Dread Wolf take him!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we get to know a little about the Inquisitor and her view of a certain elven apostate.  
> Also, we're gearing up for a trip to the Hinterlands and some overnight camping trips. 
> 
> Remember camping in Origins and all the things that happened in those tents? The tents in Inquisition are sorely underused I believe. :D

Ma'alin spent the rest of the afternoon sparring with the Chargers in the courtyard under Bull's watchful eyes. She had little experience with a sword and shield but right now she really just felt like hitting something. 

She was paired off against Krem again. More shield bashing. Joy. She'd already gone up against Dalish in sharp shootng and won. She really preferred the days when she got to beat Bull with a stick. That had so much more satisfaction to it!

She dug in her heel and prepared for the collision. Krem charged with a grunt. 

*crash* The blunt force radiated through her limbs and stilled her breath. She turned away briefly to rub her forearm where the shield was strapped in place when a figure in her peripheral vision caught her attention.

Solas. He stood in the doorway of the great hall, arms crossed at his chest and leaning on the door frame, watching them. Was that a smirk on his face? How long had he been there? Not enough time to observe now, Krem was about to come at her again. 

*crash* Krem rammed his shield into hers with full force and sent the Inquisitor back a few steps. The thrum of wood and steel hummed in her bones. 

"Good! Keep at it, Krem! I think you're finally starting to get it!" Bull was enjoying this. She was not. 

Ma'alin dug in her heels and readied for the next blow. Her mind wandered though. 'Your name', he had said...'I would have it'...he didn't even have the decency to ask. He demanded it! 

Oh shit...Krem!

*CRASH* 

Ma'alin got pushed back much further this time, not ready, and was knocked on her ass. Bull was not pleased. 

"Where is your head? If this were battle it would be rolling across the field and then placed on some pike. I think you're done for the day." He turned to Krem. "Good job, you just beat a skinny elf. Tomorrow you take me on." 

Krem reached out to her, offering a hand up. "You took a bit of a beating. Hope you don't hold it against me." He smiled and lifted her up as if she were a feather. 

Ma'alin rubbed her bottom. That was going to smart later. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of a certain elf returning to the great hall. No chance he missed that. 

"I'm good, thanks. But I think I'll take the rest of the week off. I'm not sure which is more bruised...my pride or my ass. Owwww." She moaned at the pain that emanated from her effort to rub the pain away. 

Krem smiled, picked up the shield and hung it up on the wall. 

"Come by the tavern later. You look like you could use a drink. I'll buy." Ma'alin wasn't sure if she imagined it but it appeared that Krem had a slight blush on his cheeks as he turned away and headed back to the armory. Pondering would have to be for later, she was distracted by the sound a gruff growl behind her. 

"Where is your head? A practice dummy would have given Krem more of a fight!" Bull crossed his huge arms and stared down at her. "I'm sorry, Bull. I just don't think I'm a shield and sword type of girl. I think I'll stick to my bow. I'm much better at watching your back from a distance, I think." 

Bull laughed, slapped her on the back, and nearly sent her reeling. "You're still welcome to come train with us. Hell, skip the training and come drink with us! Kremmie looks like he would like some company before he gets Krem-de-la-creamed by me tomorrow." She laughed at the awful pun. She was tempted, but not today. There were other matters to deal with. 

"Thanks, Bull. I'll catch you later. Tell Krem I said thanks for the lesson." Bull laughed as she walked away rubbing her sore ass. He began teasing Cass as she walked away and she could hear his great guffaws as she entered the great hall. She could only imagine the dirty looks Cassandra was casting at him. 

She waved to Varric as she passed. "Hey Vixen, where we headed to later?" Ma'alin couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. Varric and his ridiculous nicknames. "Hinterlands, Varric. Pack your things."

Varric rubbed the last bit of silverite polish from Bianca's trigger guard. "Mind if I bring Chuckles? He needs to get out more. He's looking especially broody and pasty. He needs some sunshine." Ma'alin pretended not to see the sly smile beckoning at the corner of his mouth. Always so observant. Varric was a big ball of trouble and double entendres and she loved him for it. He could get away with murder with her. "Sure. Bring who you like. We leave this afternoon." 

Ma'alin retreated to the solace of her private quarters. She dropped her gear. The straps from her practice plate were soon unbuckled and it fell to the floor. The boots came next. She still was not accustomed to those. Her toes grabbed floor and stretched out. Gods, if her clan could see her now what would they make of her? She peeled off her dirty breeches and removed her dusty jacket. She didn't bother with small clothes most of the time. Everything else was already too restrictive. A glance at her back end revealed dark purple bruises spreading over her lower cheeks and the backs of her upper thights. Lovely. She stepped out of the pile of discarded clothing and stretched her arms to the heavens, feeling the cool air of Skyhold on her bare skin. She closed her eyes and felt her muscles flex and pull. Her mind wandered and she found herself wondering what Solas' skin felt like, what he tasted like, as his muscles stretched and pulled under his skin when he grasped a lover....

Fenedhis! Why? Why was he invading her thoughts? She could not afford to be distracted, especially not by him. The mere thought of him was beginning to cause aches in her core. 

She went to her large, empty, Orlesian bed (also insisted upon by Josie) and flung herself upon it, staring up at the ceiling. Not him, she could hear her Keeper in her thoughts. No, da'len, keep your focus. You have obligations, she would say. Besides, Solas had no clan. He openly mocked the Dalish, called them children. He had no vallaslin! They would call him flat-ear and dismiss him as an outsider. Not that he was even an option, she knew better. More than once her Keeper had reminded her that her duties were more than her desires. But the words didn't hold the same weight on her shoulders here when there was the very great chance that she would never see her clan again. 

She lifted her hand in the air and looked at the green glow that emanated from there. The pain had subsided before they ever left Haven but the electric hum still sent waves of tingling and heat down her arm when she came near an open rift or unleashed the power of the mark. Solas had sat with her, Varric said, after she was thrown from the fade, keeping the mark from consuming her. She did not remember those moments but there were brief glimpses of images that swam from the dark recesses of her mind when she slept. Eyes swirling around her, a voice calling out to her, shades in the shadows and her mind being pulled into many directions. She shook her head and came back to the present. Who was Solas that he knew so many things she had never heard of? They were both elven so how could they be so different? She wondered if her people truly were so isolated as he said and that there were things they had forgotten? It was a bitter thought to swallow but it made her want to open Solas' mind and see what else was there. She had avoided him at Haven but after Corypheus destroyed their illusion of safety it had been Solas who sought her out. She recalled him singling her out from the survivors, gliding into the night like a panther, his silhouette illuminated by veilfire, and not seeming at all like the humble apostate he presented himself as. His words almost seemed mocking. "The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting." As if he knew...and he had called her lethallan then but since coming to Skyhold he had become ever so formal. That is, until he had demanded her name. Lethallan, he said. I would have it. 

Dread wolf take him, she thought. 

She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and closed her eyes. She could see him so clearly in her mind. Tall, broad shouldered, lean silhouette. His face was a mix of angular clefts and rounded slopes with high cheekbones and tired eyes that were an odd mix of greyish blue and lavender. He wore a stoic expression of detachment and nonchalance but there were moments, such as their first meeting, where he threw back his head and laughed with abandon. Those moments were rare but she could not take her eyes off of him when they happened. He became electric. It had been enough to take her thoughts away from the dashing Commander Cullen, though. Cullen was handsome and kind but Solas had a sarcastic streak that hinted at great humor beneath his tightly controlled exterior. More than once she had wondered at the man beneath the facade and found that he was a mystery that intrigued her. So much so, in fact, that she had convinced herself it was much better to just stay away from him. 

She was not one to hide though. He had expressed little interest in her beyond her mark. Surely there was little danger in getting to know him better. He was the only other elf in the inner circle of the Inquisition and she ached for the presence of her people. If nothing else, he seemed to be a fount of history and knowledge of their heritage. 

Ma'alin unfurled her limbs and quickly picked up her discarded clothing. She would not have servants picking up after her. Josie was forever sending people to check on her room in case any dignitaries wished to meet with her in private. It had not happened yet but Josie was always thinking of things like that. 

The Inquisitor donned her new leather armor made of soft ram skin with grey fennec fur trim. She smiled slightly at the fox fur that Josie had commissioned to add as details to her leathers as a reminder of home, a reminder of who she was. She tucked her fox pendant into her bodice, straightened the braid that ran above her left ear to keep her locks from being tangled in her bow, and donned her black leather boots. She grabbed her travel bag and took a deep breath. 

He was just a man. He was arrogant, prideful, and haughty. And she had other commitments to think of, should she leave the Inquisition alive, that is. 

She met Varric in the great hall, joined soon after by an irritated Cassandra and an indifferent Solas. Cassandra was already starting in on Varric before they had even gotten to the gate, having been wound up already by Bull she was really letting Varric have it, and they paired off together in their bickering leaving Ma'alin with the silent elf. They walked together for a long time in silence until she had enough and she began walking faster. 

"You took quite a tumble," he called out to her, breaking the silence. "You should slow your pace, allow those muscles to heal. I know a poultice that would help with the bruising." 

Was he mocking her? laughing at her? Her cheeks flushed. So he had definitely seen her ungraceful landing on her ass. She'd take his bait, she was not going to be outdone. 

"And who is to apply this poultice to my naked body? Cassandra?" she paused and should have stopped there but she couldn't resist before adding, "You, Solas?" 

"If you would like. It would be my pleasure, lethallin." He never broke his stride. She saw his sneaky little side glance in her direction and the twitch of a smirk that played at the corner of his mouth. Her face was hot and she wanted nothing more than wipe that smile off his face. 

Dread wolf take him! Otherwise she was going to throttle him and they were going to be short one haughty elf!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Krem. <3 Such an underrated character and such a gentleman. 
> 
> Ma'alin is fighting against this pull to the snarky Solas but he's already sneaking into her thoughts. She's got some heavy obligations on her shoulders though that keep her away from him. Those will come up at a later date. 
> 
> She is drawn to his control and air of mystery and she's really wishing he would get out of her head. It's easier to remind herself of all his faults but even those don't hold much weight in her reasoning anymore. 
> 
> And damn is he smooth at beating her at her own game!  
> That's ok though. A woman likes a challenge. <3


	3. Orlesian red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas' personal quest finds the group in the Hinterlands seeking out elven artifacts. 
> 
> Varric and Cassandra bickering, shady Solas and Mihris interaction, huddling around the campfire, drinking Varric's Orlesian red wine.  
> Solas and Ma'alin seek out old ruins in the moonlight. Questions are asked. Moves are made. "Confessions" ensue.

The group had made good time reaching the Hinterlands. Between Varric and Cassandra’s bickering, and the Inquisitor’s huffy pace, they had made it to the cross roads in record time. Solas stood at the foot of the trail, resting upon his staff, as Ma’alin completed business with Corporal Vale. She had acquired food and supplies for the refugees but so much more was still needed. She came slowly down the trail looking as if the world was weighing upon her shoulders, and in truth, it truly was. A distraction from the wearying grind would do her good.

“Inquisitor, a word if you please.” She shot him a brief look that said she’d rather punch him than look at him but he did not take it seriously. She reminded him of the young, hot-headed elf he once was who also could not bear being bested in a battle of wits. He had a feeling it riled her the same way it did him. Verbal foreplay.

“Sure, walk with me. I have some herbs to drop off to the apothecary.” Solas fell instep with her. “In my journeys in the fade, I felt a presence of an intriguing artifact near here. If you are willing, I would like to locate it. According to my research, the ancient elves may have set up wards in this area. If we can find the artifacts they used, it may help strengthen these areas against further tears in the veil.” Curiosity had overcome her ire. She looked at him thoughtfully. “The ancient ones had wards? Do you think they could truly help us?” Solas nodded his head. “Fascinating. I would be glad to help, Solas. Let me drop this off and then you lead the way.”

The cave was close, he could feel it. Before long they had could see the entrance in the distance and a lone elf battling demons on the steps of the ruin outside. Ma’alin rushed forward with Cassandra at her side. Varric took position behind a boulder. “Demons, it always has to be demons…” He pulled the wench on Bianca and took aim. Ma’alin took the high ground on a crumbled wall and rained arrows down on the demons rushing at Cassandra’s back. Solas closed in, opened his arms, and channeled waves of flame that undulated from his fingers and then exploded in a hot whoosh, igniting the air infront of him and pushing out with such force that the closest demon incinerated on contact. The flames continued to channel and engulf the remaining creatures until they were ash upon the ground. Cassandra sheathed her sword, batting at smoke wafting from her sleeve, and cast a glower in Solas’ direction. “Any closer, Solas, and I think you would owe me a new shirt.” Solas smiled. “My apologies, Seeker. But I don’t think I can take the credit for that one.” As if on cue, Varric strolled past them, a hum upon his lips, blowing out a handful of flaming bolts. “Varric!” Cassandra shoved the dwarf in the shoulder and the bickering began again. 

"Watch it, Seeker. Bianca doesn't like other women touching me. Keep it up and you'll have to deal with her."

Solas passed the bickering couple to find the Inquisitor speaking with the elf. “…my name is Mihris. By your weapons I see you come ready for battle. And it appears we share a common enemy. I came here seeking elven artifacts that measure the veil. I did not expect so many demons to appear though. You’re of the people. Would you help me?” Solas hung back, observing, not making eye contact with the stranger. Ma’alin eyed Mihris with suspicion.

“Where are your people, Mihris? Is your clan nearby?” Caught off guard, MIhris fumbled for words. “I was, um, I mean I am, First of Clan Virnehn. I left in service to my clan and saw that great tear in the veil on my journey. I know more of magic and the veil than any shemlen, so I hoped to help.” Liar. Solas could not bite his tongue any longer. “Ma harel, da’len.”

Mihris’ mouth dropped and hung slack before she could gather her meager wits. “I…we should keep moving.” Ma’alin looked at him questioningly and they fell in step together as they followed their strange new companion. Mihris stood at the caved in entrance. “We’ll need focused magical energy to get by.” Ma’alin tilted her head and glared at Mihris in a way that was her trademark. Solas’ skepticism had made her wary of the Dalish before her. “Aren’t you a mage?” she asked with a heavy amount of emphasis on the ‘you’. Mihris ignored her, looked past her to Solas. “You, flat-ear. Think you can manage it?”

Ma’alin squared off before Mihris, her eyes blazing with anger, and Solas could see she was about to educate this supposed First of Clan Virnehn. Solas turned his back upon them and, with feigned obedience and humility, replied, “Ma nuvenin, da’len.” He cleared the entrance and called for Ma’alin before she throttled the wayward elf. Mihris rushed past them inside the cave followed by a cautious Cassandra and an armed Varric. Solas caught Ma’alin by the arm before she could enter. He pulled her close and leaned in to speak in her ear. “Be cautious. She is not who she appears to be. The artifact contains power we must possess for our own and we would do well to prevent her from taking anything from here.” Ma’alin did not question him. She could feel the wrongness of their companion. She silently nodded her head and they continued into the cave.

As the last of the demons fell inside the crumbed temple, Solas reached out to Ma’alin and touched her shoulder. She met his gaze and followed his gesture to the spherical metallic orb at the base of some ancient forgotten god. He watched her as she reached the artifact and placed her mark upon it, causing the artifact to ignite and respond with a vibrating green glow that crackled and arched and sparked ozone into the atmosphere. Solas smiled to himself. Mihris had failed. And yet she had found something of interest. She smacked of gluttony as she picked up an ancient pendant. “Well, well. It seems the ancestors did leave something for me after all! Farewell, our business is concluded.”

Ma’alin shot him a look and he nodded in answer. Solas took a step and blocked Mihris in her path. He towered over her, staring down at the shifty elf, making her take a step back. “Ma halani, ma glandival. Vir enasalin.” She faltered, looked about, and realized she was outnumbered. “I…perhaps you are right. Here. Take it.” She shoved it into his chest. “Go with Mythal’s blessing”, she sneered and hastily left them. Solas handed the necklace to Ma’alin. She was about to say something when Varric interrupted.

“I don’t know what was said but I take it that did not go well. Can’t you elves just get along?” Solas smiled. “My apologies, Master Tethras.” Varric strapped Bianca back in her sheath and rubbed his brow. “No apologies necessary, Chuckles. Shit, I’m too old for this. Lets get to camp before it’s dark. I have a bottle of Orlesian red calling my name. How about you, Vixen? Would you fancy a drink?” The genuine smile that Varric could evoke from her face lit her up. “I wouldn’t miss it, Varric."

Nightfall found them sitting around the campfire, listening to another of Varric’s grand stories of adventures with Hawke, punctuated by pointed ‘ughs’ from Cassandra. This one was of Tallis and the infamous "Wyvern mating dance" that even left Solas wiping a tear from his eyes from the exertion of laughing. Stories were told, laughs were shared, and the wine flowed until even Cassandra giggled at one of Varric’s jokes. The look of horror on her face when she realized what she had done was priceless. That was enough to tell everyone it was time to call it a night. Ma’alin helped Cassandra to her tent. Solas could hear her firmly instructing the Inquisitor, "Forget you know this about me." Varric stood before the fire, warming his hands. “Stay out of trouble, Chuckles. There is no one left to chaperone you two tonight. I've heard stories of the naked frolicking you elves do in the moonlight." Solas smiled and waved him off to bed. "You've been listening too much to Dorian's wild imagination." Varric smiled, "Perhaps. But it would make a great chapter in my next book". He waved back and made his way to his tent.

Solas stood to stretch his limbs. The cold ground had brought an ache to his legs. He gathered his bag and his bedroll and walked to the edge of the firelight. Their camp was on the edge of a clearing and he could see the ruins of the cave alight in moonlight just in the distance. He wondered what new spirits he might encounter here if he drifted off into the fade beneath the broken pillars. He felt a soft touch between his shoulders and a whisper at his shoulder. “Are they asleep?” Inquisitor. “Yes. And you, lethallan? You must be tired.” He turned to face her. She was illuminated by the firelight and glowing from the wine. He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her wine stained lips. Instead he cleared his throat and pointed to the ruins. “Care to take a walk with me?” She nodded and they fell in step with one another. He smiled to himself. It amused him that they were most in sync when they walked together side by side. She must have felt the same because she matched his stride and gait and they moved as if in unison.

They reached the ruin and found an open spot beneath an old brazier. Solas arched his wrist and ignited it with veilfire, casting Ma’alin in a ghostly blue glow. They sat next to one another, their backs to the wall and looking out upon the ruins scattered about them. He could feel her body so close to his and it clawed at him, this desire to reach out and touch her, to feel her lips upon his. She interrupted his thoughts. “Tell me more about you, Solas.”

Careful. There were too many paths where this could lead. “What would you like to know?”

She did not look at him. “Tell me why you hate the Dalish so.” He frowned. Not his favorite topic.

  
“You remind me that they are ‘our’ people but in truth they use that phrase so casually that they have forgotten that it should mean much more than what we have become. That and many other things" he said.

She turned to him and the furrow had returned to her brow. “Oh but you know the truth, right?” It was an accusatory question and not unanticipated. He shifted on his hip and turned towards her. His voice softened.

“While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the fade. I have seen many things they have not, enough to fill a lifetime. And yet my attempts to speak with the Dalish, to remind them of what we have lost, were dismissed and I was treated as an outsider not worthy of their kinship. Flat ear, they said. They are foolish, children fumbling with fables that no longer care for the truth,” She looked down at her hands in her lap, weighing his words. He knew his words were unkind but she deserved the truth. When she lifted her face to him the anger had dissipated.

“Ir abelas, hahren. If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I would make that right. I make a promise to you that I will listen.” Her eyes were earnest and she was without pretense or falsehood. He could feel his pulse dance again at her words that touched him deeply. He swallowed hard and reached up to push back a stray lock of hair that had fallen over the arching branches of her vallaslin.

“I believe you. Perhaps I have misjudged all the Dalish for the mistakes of a few. Ir abelas, da’len. If there is anything else you wish to know, you have but to ask.”

He tucked the lock behind her ear, grazing her cheek, and withdrew his hand. Absently she reached up to smooth it back into place, brushing her fingers over the skin he had just touched. He wanted to touch her again when she interrupted his thoughts. “I heard you speaking with Varric about the fade, about how you need to explore new places here in order to find more in the fade. Is that why you joined the Inquisition?” He searched her face. She was so curious, so earnest in her search for answers.

“No. I joined the Inquisition because we are all in terrible danger. Besides, if our enemies destroy the world then I will have nowhere to lay my head while dreaming in the fade.” She smiled slightly, catching his hint of humor in his answer.

“I guess I can think of worse reasons to join the Inquisition.” Her gaze fell back to the her hands as her fingers traced shapes idly on the stones laying between them. He reached out to her and gently traced the top of her fingers with his own, whisper soft and just barely grazing her skin. She had stopped moving, frozen in time.

“In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life in order to find more of the fade.” Her hand relaxed slightly and he took the invitation to run his fingers over the back of her hand, leaving a trail of cool frost in their path. Her breath came short and shallow for an instant before regaining her composure.

“How so, Solas?” He tilted his head and with his other hand he placed one finger gently under her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his.

“You train to pierce an arrow deep into your target. I’ve seen how effortlessly you and your bow become one. That is the result of dedicated practice. The grace with which you move is a pleasing side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I.” Her eyes were locked upon his, no longer searching, but with such focus that he knew she was holding back. She was willing restraint. His hand was still tracing tendrils of frost upon her skin. She did not return his caress nor did she pull away. When she finally spoke her voice was heavy, with an underlying sensual playfulness.

“So…you’re suggesting I’m graceful?” The corner of his mouth pulled into a coy smile. He traced his fingers up her bare arm, leaving little frost marks upon her skin and felt her skin shiver beneath his touch.

“No. I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate.” She hummed a small sound of approval. Her eyes had closed and the veilfire danced upon the curves of her face, illuminating her icy blonde hair until it looked white under the moonlight. He wondered what she was thinking, wondered if he should stop. She had not moved. She had not returned his caresses. He did not want to make her uncomfortable if his advances were unwelcome. He withdrew his hand from her skin. She looked down at her arm and rubbed her palm over her skin, brushing away the frost. He had been mistaken.

“I am sorry, da-..”

She moved quickly, closing the gap between them, and pressed a finger against his lips. “Ssshh. Don’t say that.” She was on her knees at his side, so close that he could smell peaches and jasmine again. He looked at her questioningly, curiously. He could not read her and it was making him heady with anticipation. Her face hovered above his, so close that he could smell the cloves and spices upon her lips from Varric’s Orlesian red wine.

“Ma’alin….” he whispered. Her eyes were soft and she no longer looked like the hardened Inquisitor that she presented to the outside world. Somewhere in the moment she had dropped that heavy burden and the woman before him looked like a goddess in the cold glow of the veilfire.

“Solas, I want to show you something. Close your eyes.” He placed one hand upon her cheek, wanting to pull her in closer and drink in the wine upon her red stained lips. “Solas…close your eyes.” He reluctantly removed his hand and closed his eyes. His pulse had quickened and he began to feel a tightness within him that was calling out for her.

His body grew taut as he felt her straddle his thighs with her own. She sat upon his lap, one hand upon his chest and leaned into him until he could feel the warmth of her chest against his own and her soft breath upon his neck. It was a relief and an agony that she did not straddle his hips. He could feel the warmth of her other hand as it ghosted over his face to his forehead. Slowly she traced her fingertips down his nose to the curve above his lips, over his top lip, pausing to glide along his bottom lip, and down his chin to his neck. He involuntarily shuddered at the soft touch of her fingers. There was a pause. Gods, he wanted to open his eyes to see her. She placed her hand over his eyes, as if she knew what he was thinking. He could see star bursts in the blackness as she pressed her hand against his eyelids. She was pushing him to the edge of his restraint and he wanted his mouth on hers so badly he was aching. He could feel her warm breath upon his neck.

Suddenly Icy tendrils whispered against his neck, frost tracing up to his chin like silken threads, and he gasped! His eyes flew open and his hands went to her waist. “Ssssh” she whispered over the frost, holding her hand firmly over his eyes, Her other hand moved from his chest and pushed his head back, exposing his neck further. Warm breath, followed by icy tingles worked their way from the hollow of his neck to the base of his ear, back down, and to the other ear. He shuddered at the exquisite sensation and a small moan escaped his lips. His hands tightened around her waist with his fingers splayed across her lower back, grasping flesh to keep him anchored in his skin.

Her hand tilted his face down and he could feel her breath on his lips. He leaned in to claim a kiss and she pushed him back, hand still upon his eyes. Warm breath caressed his cheeks and then there came the first bite of frost. The tendrils spread so lightly across his cheeks, now across the bow of his upper lip. The frost was beginning to pool upon his bottom lip and he parted his lips to lick it off. He was greeted with hot, wet flesh pressing upon his lips and he groaned into her mouth as her hot tongue slid against his. His hands went to her face, tangled in her hair and pulled her in closer, driving their mouths together hard. Her hand had fallen away from his eyes and both hands grasped at his chest, holding fistfuls of his shirt, holding on tightly as he pulled her closer.

He could not get deep enough into her mouth to satisfy himself. His hips rolled beneath her involuntarily, and her thighs gripped his even tighter. His tongue explored hers, hungry at first, then seeking, then turning into molten fire as he became consumed and wanted to devour her sweetness. She moaned in his mouth and a low growl rumbled from his throat in answer. His hands cupped her face, he slowed his pace, feeling her labored breaths against his chest. Quickly he inhaled through his mouth, pulling the air from her lungs, startling her. Her head jerked and he could feel her body tense, a moment of panic when she realized she could not breathe. His hands held her fast and in an instant he had breathed the air back into her. She gasped against his lips. He gently kissed her, letting her breath fall back into a steady cadence, his hands sliding back to her waist. Her lips reluctantly retreated, hot breath against his face, leaving him feeling as if a piece of him was suddenly missing.

He tilted back his face to look at her. Her hair was mussed from his fingers and her lips were swollen from his kisses. If he had thought her beautiful before she was ravishing now. Who was this woman? He had never known a woman who had surprised him, commanded him, and made him want to fall upon his knees and worship her as she did. She looked at him with tenderness while searching his eyes for his reaction.

“Ma’alin.” He whispered. His lips curled into a smile and his fingers caressed her cheek. She leaned into his touch.

“The fox is a mage in disguise.”

"Sssshhhhh" she whispered, and she silenced his mouth with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT - a few things were added to the campfire story scene. The rest was grammatical. 
> 
> Some loose elven translations...
> 
> "Ma harel, da’len" - you are deceiving me, child. 
> 
> "Ma halani, ma glandival. Vir enasalin" - You are indebted for my help. Be content with the path you have chosen.
> 
> If you subscribe to the theory that Solas and Felassan from "The Masked Empire" have some association then it is heavily implied in Solas' interactions with Mihris that he knows who she is and this is not a friendly interaction. 
> 
> I never took the hahren/da'len exchange between Solas and the Inquisitor as a romantic exchange or as an "oh mighty teacher, teach me" exchange. I think in that moment that Lavellan is acknowledging the amount of knowledge he possesses that appears to have been lost. He acknowledges her as da'len out of respect to her acknowledgement. This is not an exchange that continues in their relationship and I interpreted as an exchange of respect to certain traditions.


	4. Fade Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to describe this? 
> 
> Fade tongue. Lots and lots of fade tongue. And Solas' thighs. Seriously, not for children. There's much, much more to that kiss in Haven than we see in the regular camera point of view. Hence, Solas thighs
> 
> If you haven't seen the flycam pics of the first kiss between Solas and the Inquisitor then you need to go here and see [Fade thigh!](http://www.kreebby.com/post/108057907891/as-requested-a-gifd-version-of-the-thigh-feel)

Ma’alin awoke with her head resting upon Solas’ chest. They lay stretched out upon his bedroll, legs entangled, with his arms around her. His eyes were closed, his breath soft and steady, still and serene. Was he dreaming? Was he walking the fade? He looked much younger as he lay there before her and she wondered what he had been like as a young man. Was he the reserved man she was coming to know or had he been more free spirited?

She rested her chin upon his chest and gazed at him. She could not say exactly how they had come to this, what had possessed her to kiss him or to confess her secret. One of her secrets at least…but she had to admit to herself that she had been attracted to him since she first met him. He was an oddly handsome man but that was not what initially attracted her to him. When she met him she felt an instant kindred connection with him, a familiarity, as if she had known him in some distant life.

He felt like home, a safe place amongst the chaos. And that terrified her to her core.

It drew her to him in ways she was not comfortable with. She barely knew him and so little was known about his history. Last night the wine had softened her reserve ever so slightly and she found herself acting out upon her feelings of familiarity. She did not regret what happened, not even a little bit, and now she wondered what would come next. She could just imagine the looks she would get, the gossip that would spread, if she walked into Skyhold with an apostate lover. And it would escalate exponentially if they were to learn that she too was an apostate hidden within the Inquisition. She had not chosen magic, it had chosen her, but she would not let that define her. She preferred solitude in the woods with her bow, walking among the trees in silence, and keeping her own counsel. She had the feeling that Solas felt the same way. Now her days were filled with council meetings, strategic planning, politics, military action, and decisions that weighed upon her shoulders and kept her up at night. Her moments of solitude were rare. Here, alone with Solas, she felt like she had finally found where she belonged.

Solas began to stir. She lightly traced her fingers down the slopes of his face. He twitched, still coming up from the depths of his slumber, and his lips curled up the corners. HIs eyes still closed, his husky voice purred, “You are still here. I am amazed.”

His voice, normally so regal and measured, was rich and deep with leftover sleep and huskily slurred with desire. “Of course I am still here. I can think of no where else I would rather be in this moment than here between the legs of a sexy elven god.” He started, eyes wide open, quickly pushing himself up onto his arm and leaning towards her. His eyes held hers, narrowed at first then searching. She could feel his alert tension. “Is something wrong, Solas?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, his body relaxed, and he laid his head back upon his pillow. “Nothing is wrong. I was just wondering where you have hidden away this supposed sex god you tangled with last night. Perhaps you dreamed him.” She laughed and felt his chest vibrate beneath her as he suppressed a small chuckle that rumbled in his chest. She sat up and leaned over him. “I am looking at him.” Solas ran his index finger down her nose to her lips, traced the edges of her kiss-bruised lips, and trailed his finger down her chin to the pendant of the fox at the nape of her neck.

“You are a vixen. Smart, cunning, coy. Someday you will have to tell me your secrets and why you hide your magic.” That hit a nerve. She needed to deflect. She swallowed her anxiety, smiled, and said, “Someday. Until then, I’m interested in what you told me of yourself and your studies. If you have time, I’d like to hear more.” He sat up, his face relaxed and thoughtful. “You continue to surprise me. All right, let us talk…preferably somewhere more interesting than here.” He stood, took her hand and helped her stand, and began leading her from the ruins. He left his things. That struck her as odd but she followed.

They walked side by side to the edge of the valley, rounded the corner or a large cliff, and there was Haven.

They climbed the steps to the base camp outside the Chantry. There so many memories she had of Haven. “Solas, why here?”

“Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you.” There were more things than Haven that were familiar to her here but this was not the time. Solas walked to the doors of the Chantry, pushed the great wooden doors open and held the door for her as she stepped inside. The smell of incense fanned over her face mixed with the smell of old oak and parchment. The sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows and mingled with the candlelight creating a warm glow that bathed Solas’ features and made him appear golden. He took her hand and guided her to the door to the underground cells. She had not been there since she was released from her chains. It did not hold pleasant memories.

They walked the catacomb like hall until they reached the room surrounded by cells. He stood by her side, and she followed his gaze to the abandoned shackles that laid upon the floor. She shuddered at the memory. She was so certain she was going to die that day. If not from the mark spreading then at the hands of the Seeker and the Templars that surrounded her and held her at the mercy of their swords. Solas pointed to the shackles in the middle of the floor.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor.” He did not look at her, as if he was reliving those moments as well. She could only imagine what it had been like for him, what had transpired in those three days, as she lay unconscious next to him with the anchor sparking it’s angry magic. Cassandra told her it had sent her body into convulsions with each arch. Solas had been there to help her before he even knew her, keeping her alive and protecting her. “I am glad someone was looking over me. I’m glad that someone was you.”

He turned to her. “You were a mystery.” His voice was curious. His head tilted and his expression was thoughtful. “You still are.” His voice became more eager and impassioned. “I ran every test I could imagine, searched the fade, yet found nothing. Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I did not produce results.” He had risked so much to help her. It endeared him to her even more and she gave him a small smile.

“She can get like that.” He threw back his head and laughed, a laugh that chuckled and ended with a slight snort. So that was Varric’s inspiration for his nickname! It was adorable. “You are right about that. Come, let us leave this room.” She was all to glad to leave that room and never return.

They left the warm glow of the Chantry and stepped out into the muted fall sunlight. There in the sky, hovering over them, was the great viridian breach that loomed over Haven.

“You were never going to wake up,” he said, striding to the open path and stopping. “How could you? A mortal sent physically through the fade…” He turned to face her, the breach at his back silhouetting him in green. “I was frustrated. Frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

Ma’alin had wondered why he had stayed. He had so much to lose. His freedom; his life. He could have been made tranquil if they had considered him a threat. Where would he have run?

“The breach threatened the whole world. Where did you plan to go?”

His brow arched and a playful look crossed his face. “Somewhere far away where I might research a way to repair the breach before it’s effects reached me.” He smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I never said it was a good plan!” They shared a smile.

He stepped away, faced the breach in the shattered sky, and thrust out his hand to the heavens as if to summon the anchor. “I told myself, ‘one more attempt to seal the rifts!’ I tried…and failed. No ordinary magic would effect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee! And then…”

He turned to her, took her left hand in his and turned the palm up to examine the green glow that emanated from her skin. He ran his fingers over it and the magic sparked and responded to his touch. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture! And right then…I felt the whole world _change._ ”

His expression was full of passion and a sort of exuberance that lit him from within. Her hand was still held within his and she could feel the tingling of the anchor as it danced upon her skin as if it, too were reaching out to him.

She stepped in closer to him. Was it possible he felt the familiarity between them as well?

“Felt the whole world change?” He demurred, but his thumb caressed the mark upon her palm. “A figure of speech” He said.

Ma’alin stepped in closer, close enough to feel his body heat against her clothing. She looked up at him with hooded eyes, spoke with a sultry tone to tease him. “I am aware of the metaphor. I am more interested in ‘ _felt_ ’…”

He stepped closer into her, tilting his face down to look at her. “You change… _everything_.” His eyes were large, pupils dilated, lips parted.

“Sweet talker” she whispered up at him. His eyes dropped from her face and for a moment she was unsure. Her right hand went to his face; she cupped her palm to his cheek and pulled his face down to her as she reached up on her tip-toes. She pressed her lips against his, breathing him in. He dropped her hand and the mark in surprise and stood there in her grasp. She pressed her lips into his, awaiting him to reciprocate. One hand came to her waist but she could sense he was hesitant. This was not the molten kisses he had showered her with last night. She let go of his face, briefly resting her brow against his chin before pulling away. She came down from the tips of her feet and took a step back, feeling confused and more than a bit foolish.

 

She looked up to see Solas and the expression in his eyes was not indifference but amazement, wonder, and passion. His head shook for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what he was doing, and suddenly he was upon her. He grabbed her around her arms and pulled her into him so quickly that her chest crashed into his and she almost stumbled. She wrapped her arms around his slender waist and held on as he pressed his lips upon hers, urging them open to gain entrance, and massaging her tongue with his own. He swallowed her moan as his kiss went from tender to being so hungry that it ignited flames within her core and created an ache that pulsed down through her body. Her left hand trailed up his chest and rested behind his neck, giving her leverage to push back against his kiss which was threatening to devour her and make her pass out.

She pressed her chest against him, felt his hands begin to travel over her body. One hand came to her waist, the other slid to the back of her neck. His kisses spread to her neck and his hand cradled her head as she leaned into the pleasure he was creating within her. The hungriness was still there but more controlled. He nipped at her flesh and sucked just below her ear. She cried out in pleasure.

He lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were hooded with desire and his lips were wet. He shook his head very slightly, as if to pull away, before a mischievous gaze entered his eyes and he rushed back into her embrace.

The hand on the back of her neck held her as he met her mouth again and their tongues entwined with one another in heated passion. His other hand grasped her waist and pulled her into him. She could feel his body pressed so tightly against hers, could feel the pressure of his hips against hers and the heat that pressed in from there. The flames within turned to a wildfire. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

She pressed her hips against his with a gentle push. This time it was his moan that filled their kiss and she eagerly swallowed it and wanted more. She leaned up on her tip-toes and slid her belly against the length of him as she reached up to deepen their kiss, felt him tighten beneath her, and then she slowly slid back down against his bulge, teasing him.

That was enough to unleash something she had only suspected existed within him.

Solas’ hands slid down to her bottom, grasping her cheeks in both hands. His tongue was creating dizzying effects with his kiss as he grasped her ass and lifted her back to her toes. His right leg pressed forward, inserting his thigh between hers and maneuvering her right thigh to press against the length of his member. Everything between her thighs thrummed and vibrated with her quickening pulse and the pressure of his thigh against that thrum made her wanton in her desire for him.

She threw both arms around his neck, clung tighter to him, and drove her tongue into his mouth to convey her need and desire. A growl rumbled low in his chest. His hands still cupped her ass, and he was bending her body further and further back, arching her into him and making her cling to him or risk falling. Slowly he relaxed his grip and she slid down his long, lean thigh. She moaned in ecstasy. The pressure against her clit was divine and maddening at the same time. Still leaning over her, he pulled her back up the length of his thigh, creating a lighter pressure against her but causing her thigh to press hard into his crotch as he pulled her up. His moan vibrated against her tongue. He pressed harder into her kiss and her lips were feeling bruised. He slid her down again, her moan escaping their kiss, and lifted her back again, causing him to shudder. Again. And again. Harder. Faster. Her head was thrown back, unable to breathe and sustain the moans that escaped her lips if she continued the kiss that was threatening to drown her. His lips bit at her neck, his tongue lathed against her skin, and sucked at her earlobe. Hot breath panted against her ear as he teased the soft skin there then sucked until the next moan escaped her lips.

Maker! Creator! Whatever Gods of hers were left that could hear her…she was about to collapse from the ecstasy of him! The fire within her was condensing to a throbbing tightness that was threatening to make her come undone. From the pants and moans that he was whispering on her ear she knew he was close as well.

“Solas… _oh_ …” she could barely breathe! He was still sliding her body up, down, up, down with such ease and taking great pleasure in dragging this out. She couldn’t take it anymore! She needed release!

She growled and arched her back, causing him to move one hand to her waist to support her. He purred into her neck, “Tell me what you want, Lethallan. Tell me, and you shall have it.”

The curse burst from her mouth in a half plea and half command.

“Dread wolf, take me!” She gasped. His lips curled against her skin in what she imagined was a smile and then he clasped his lips onto hers, sealing her mouth with his. He rocked her body, held her against him, applying hard pressure to the thrum that was begging for him.

Her eyes were closed and she began to see stars. Everything in her body stiffened and shook. A long moan began to escape her throat and vibrate against his tongue. His lips left hers and he rested his forehead against hers, her moans became gasps that panted against his lips.

“Come to me, Ma’alin” he whispered. Suddenly the fire within her combusted, warmth spread throughout her body, and her hips rocked against him again and again. He held her until the shaking had subsided and her body had relaxed. She could not feel her toes and she was unsteady on her feet. Solas kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. He straightened their bodies, placing her gingerly back upon solid ground. She leaned into his chest, still seeing stars in her vision.

He was still unsatisfied and she wanted to make him feel as he had made her feel.  
“Solas, what can I do for you?” She began to trail her fingers down his abdomen to the waist of his breeches. His hand came to still hers, stopping her from trailing further.

“We shouldn’t,” he said quietly. “It isn't right, not even here.”

Ma’alin looked up at him, feeling drowsy and confused. “What do you mean, ‘even here’?”

Solas looked down at her and gave her a knowing smile. “Where did you think we were?”

She looked around. Oh, Haven…her beloved Haven had been gone for weeks now! It was almost too much to grasp in this moment.

“This…this isn’t real?!” Solas gave her a sheepish grin and smiled. “That’s a matter of debate. Best discussed after you…", he kissed her lips and leaned his forehead against hers, whispering “… ** _wake up_**.”

 

Ma’alin awoke with a jolt. She was in her tent, on the hard ground, next to a sleeping Cassandra. They were still in the Hinterlands! Her head swam and she felt dizzy. The mark on her hand was arching and twisting as it did anytime it encountered the fade. She jumped to her feet, still lightheaded, and threw back the tent flap. Varric stood before the fire heating his coffee. Solas was stretched out under a tree, eyes closed.

Varric called out, “Sleep well, Vixen? Or did you and Chuckles spend the night frolicking in the moonlight?” She felt the heat creeping up her ears. And there was Solas, laid out under a pine, with a smile spreading across his lips. Varric chuckled to himself as she quickly retreated and pulled the tent flap closed.

Varric chuckled some more. “Yep, that’s going in my book.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you see me blushing? Oh man, I can get lost in the moment when writing it, but upon editing it...blushing! 
> 
> I've never written anything like this before, I hope I did it justice. Furthermore, I hope you enjoy it.


	5. Come to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of catching up and some clarification on that fade tongue. :)  
> Ma'alin and Solas discuss what this means for their relationship. 
> 
> Also, Redcliff comes back to haunt Ma'alin's dreams. But Solas has some haunting dreams of his own. 
> 
> There is a departure from the main storyline here and not canon.

Several days had passed since their sojourn in the fade and so many events had transpired that he and Ma’alin had not had one moment alone. There were brief instances where they exchanged knowing glances, small smiles at their shared secret, and the briefest brush of hands when others were not looking…which was difficult because she was always watched. Urgent notes from Skyhold, requisitions, political maneuvers, and bandit raids had dragged them all over the Hinterlands, Storm Coast, and Crestwood. The Inquisitor was looking exhausted and a little road worn. He had pressured Cassandra, insisting they head back to Skyhold. As strong as she was, the Inquisitor was stretched to her limit.

They reached Skyhold at dusk. Everything was hectic. New companions had flocked to Skyhold in the past few days and quarters had to be situated. Sera. Blackwell. Vivienne. With so many people coming there needed to be a space that was claimed solely for Cole. Josephine was abuzz with trying to get everyone coordinated. It had been suggested that Solas claim a bedroom instead of his very open rotunda. He had declined. The couch would do. It was best to be in the middle of things. All the better to have silent ears and observe.

Upon arrival, he only briefly saw Ma’alin in the great hall before Cullen placed his hand on her lower back and whisked her away to the war room. He watched the door close behind them as Cullen followed her through. His brow furrowed. He felt a twinge of jealousy at the Commander’s familiarity with her. It was unsettling how quickly he found himself desiring her sole attention. He turned on his heel to return to his quarters.

Solas picked up his brushes and began placing strokes of deep red upon the unfinished fresco. He had yet to finish the mural for Redcliff. Ma’alin had been very tight-lipped about what had transpired there but the events had sealed her trust in the Tevinter mage. One thing was certain, the alliance with the mages had created enemies as well as allies. The next major step in the game of the Inquisition was to take place at Halamshiral. He had overheard the plans Leliana, Josephine, and Vivienne were working on for the presentation of the famed Inquisitor at the ball. It was going to be a spectacle. He felt certain she would turn heads though no matter what sort of contrivance they had planned for her.

Solas was lost in thought and could feel the slight smile on his lips. There was a warmth in his chest that he could feel radiate deep inside when he thought of her. Her smile as she laughed at Varric’s jokes. The care with which she treated her people. She led the Inquisition with a firm yet gentle hand. Her reserve made her a mystery to the casual observer and only fed into her growing legend. He had observed her deny, time and time again, that she was the Herald of Andraste which amused him because the more she denied it the more she earned the title.

He closed his eyes and lost himself in the memory of their last night together. The memory of the taste of her skin, the caress of her lips, her gasps and moans, how her body responded to his touch, and the way she broke him into pieces when she cried his name with pleasure brought an ache to his core. She was beautiful as she arched her body against him but it was so much more than that. He'd had beautiful women in the past. But none had stirred him as this one did. She was complex, unusual, and very much a mystery. Her reserve almost matched his and he found that he admired that about her greatly. He knew the depth of passion that could be concealed with resolve and reserve. It would be fascinating to see that reserve released.

Solas felt a sudden surge in his mana. She was close. Her anchor always reached out to him when she was near. He heard the creak of the large wooden door and the soft footfall from her boots. A small delay, hesitation perhaps, and a small hand touched him between the shoulders. His voice low, he murmured, “I did not think to see you tonight.”

She came around to face him, trailing her hand across his shoulder and down his arm until she stood before him. “I did not think I could get away. But I realized you and I had not had a word since…” She looked into his eyes and one brow arched in a teasing gesture.

“Yes, not since camp. I meant to ask you, sleep well?” He was trying not to smile at the memory of Varric laughing at her hurried retreat.  
She inched closer to him, her voice low. “Solas, when I asked to talk to you I didn’t think we’d be doing it in the fade. Or, for that matter, … _doing_ it in the fade.”

He could not suppress a laugh at her play on words. She was direct. That was refreshing. However, an explanation for his rashness should be given. He had been carried away in the moment and things had escalated quickly.

“I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered. And I should not have encouraged it.” It did not dissuade her.

“Just the kiss? You say that but you’re the one who started with tongue.” Solas could see the shadow of one curious dwarf peeking around the corner of the door and listening.

“I did no such thing!” He admonished her, loud enough for Varric to hear. He winked at her. Play along, lethallan.

“Oh, does it not count if it’s only fade tongue?” To the void with her, she said that loud enough that he heard a small chuckle from outside the door. He and Master Tethras were going to have a talk about this book of his later. Solas, placed a hand around her arm and quickly pulled her into the outer vestibule away from prying ears.

He gently pushed her back against the wall. His left hand rested upon the wall next to her head, giving him leverage as he leaned down to lock his eyes with hers.

She smiled playfully. "And what about the rest? Was that ill considered as well? You did more than just encourage it."

“It has been a very long time, Ma’alin. And things have always been…easier for me in the fade.” She looked at him with acceptance and understanding, no judgement in her eyes. This woman, who had gasped his name and made him moan hers, was tearing him apart with her earnest gaze. The words falling from his lips were tremulous and heavy with worry.

“I am not certain this is the best idea. It…it could lead to trouble.” He searched her eyes, looking for an answer. He searched for signs of doubt, indifference, or signs of conquest and found none.

She reached up and ran her fingers across his brow, down the hollows of his cheek, and to the crease of his lips. “I am willing to take that chance, if you are.” Again, she surprised him. She was not the type to throw herself at him as others had done before her. She made her interest in him clear and simple. No reservations, no demands, no expectations. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed at the emotion that had welled up in his throat. He swallowed hard.

“I…maybe…yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are…considerations.” He sounded like a smitten fool. Could he? Did he dare? What was she doing to him?

“Take all the time you need.” And there it was. His heart leapt. All he could manage was a simple, “Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed a gentle kiss upon his lips. He rested his forehead against hers.

“I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams. But I am reasonably certain we are awake now, and if you wish to discuss anything I would enjoy talking.”

Her sigh was heavy, tired. “May I take you up on that offer another time? I have many questions but right now I’m…” a yawn escaped her lips. “I’m so sorry, Solas.”

“No apologies, Lethallan. It has been a long day. It would be my pleasure to escort you to your quarters.” They walked side by side, not touching. They passed Varric and Solas ignored his curious gaze. Ma’alin was so tired that the last of her energy was fading quickly. She stumbled on a step up the dais past the throne. Solas opened her door for her and then realized she had several flights of steep stairs to climb to reach her room in the tower. This would not do. He ushered her through the door and closed it shut behind them. She began to plod up the steps, holding fast to the railing.

“Lethallan. Wait.” She turned and he held his hand out to her. “Come to me.” It was not intentional but it stoked a memory between them and their eyes met. She smiled with that mischievous look in her eyes. “I tremble and obey”, she teased him, and stepped down on the landing.

Solas bent down, placed his hands gently beneath her, and scooped her up in his arms. A small gasp escaped her lips in surprise as she was hoisted up. He held her tight against his chest and began the ascent up the ancient stairwell. She was too tired to protest. Her head rested upon his shoulder and her face was nuzzling closer into the curve of his neck, breath steady and gentle. She was already dozing.

He carried her to her large ostentatious Orlesian bed with what appeared to be silk sheets. It did not suit her, he thought. He imagined she would have preferred a bed made from ancient carved oaks, woolen blankets, and cotton sheets under a sky full of stars. He would speak with Josephine and see what could be done. She needed a space where she was no longer the fabled Inquisitor.

He pulled back the covers with one hand and gently laid her upon the soft mattress. He unlaced her boots and gently tugged, removing them and setting them next to the bed. He tucked her feet under the covers and pulled them up to block out the draft that came in from the floorboards. He sat next to her and looked at her for a long time.

She was lost in sleep already. He brushed the pale strands of hair from her face. She lined her eyes with dark brown and black kohl to block the glare of the sun from her eyes and after the trials of the day most of it had worn away. She looked just as fierce without it. She reminded him of the regal huntresses of Arlathan.

Solas ran the back of his hand lightly across her cheek one last time and stood to leave. A small hand caught the tail of his shirt. A sleepy Inquisitor called to him. “Solas, stay. Please.” His uncertainty must have shown. She had promised him time.

“Not like that. I just…I’ve been having difficulty sleeping and I’m so tired. I don’t want to be alone.” He understood. She still had the Clan mentality where they sought comfort by sharing sleeping space when troubled. The Keepers taught their Clan that a sleeping partner protected one from the Dread Wolf and bad dreams. It was not sexual. It was a caring familial gesture for kin. He nodded. She pulled back the covers.

Solas crossed to the opposite side of the bed and crawled in behind her. He covered her back up, tucked her in, and pulled her close, her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her body relax. In just a few moments she had fallen back into a deep sleep. His eyes were beginning to feel heavy. He felt content, his body aligned perfectly to hers, her hair resting in his neck. He could smell wisps of fragrant leaves and jasmine in the tendrils. He could feel himself slipping away into the fade.

 

Solas walked at the edge of a great plain and he could see a line of aravels near a river. He began to draw closer. A few Dalish were fishing, others were milling about doing chores. The Keeper stood on a rock lecturing the younger children about the dangers of straying far from camp. Shemlen. Bears. Wolves. The Dread Wolf in particular. Solas shook his head in disgust and turned from them, headed back towards the forest. He entered through a thicket and caught the faint scent of jasmine. It was there he saw her, a solitary hunter stalking into the woods. She was young, a girl but not a child. She wore leather armor that was too big for her and carried a crude bow. She jumped from rock to rock across the river with a grace normally reserved for cats, long ivory tresses whipping about her face in the wind. He followed, curious. He crossed the river and saw her enter a glade under a great canopy of trees. It was then he noticed another following her. A human man. He was a young man but much older than her. He stayed behind the trees, moving slow to escape notice. Solas knew too well what his intentions were.

He closed the gap between himself and the small Dalish girl. He followed her steps into the glade but what he saw drew him up short. The girl had discarded her bow and pulled a handful of flowers from her small sack. She placed the flowers on the mantle of the shrine and knelt at the base of the statue, prayers falling from her lips. Solas crouched at edge of the glade and his heart was in his throat. It was a shrine to Fen’harel and the great statue was that of an ancient wolf. The wolf was weather worn, head back, howling to the heavens.

No, this was wrong. Why was he here? He was beginning to feel the unsettling feeling of déjà vu. He had never physically walked this glade but the distant memory of a small prayer was tugging at him. Visions filled his mind of a great wolf with six eyes answering the call.

“Protect me” she said. He could faintly hear her. “…Dread Wolf, guide me. Still my rebellious heart, help me be strong.” Solas’ head jerked as he saw the man enter the glade, knife drawn. He stood, willing the girl to see. “Run!” he yelled in exasperation.

Something happened that should not have happened. Her head jerked in his direction. The young man stopped in his tracks for a moment then lunged upon his prey. He did not see him, could not see him. But she had. Solas called out to her. “Run! Come! To me!” She turned to face him, scrambling to her feet, and reaching out her hands to him. The young man was closing in on her. Solas stepped forward and cast a great blast that sent her pursuer careening backwards a few steps. The girl was still running to him. He reached out to her with one hand and with his other he called on the fade to subdue the attacker and pin him to the ground.

A small hand clasped his desperately and he pulled her behind him to shield her. He cast one last spell on the attacker. He would not be getting up ever again.

Solas could feel small arms clasped around his waist and heavy breathing. He placed one hand upon the top of her head, stroked the white blonde locks that were tangled about her face.

“Ssshh, da'len. You are safe. Do not fear.”

The labored breaths began to slow. Despite her fear there were no tears, no crying. She looked up and past him to the man that laid dead upon the ground. He heard her small voice. “I am not afraid. I knew you would come.” Solas’ brow furrowed. This was not right. This was not a memory. He could not interact with memories in the fade.

“Your name, da'len. I would have it.” She looked up at him and his breath died in his throat. Grey-green eyes met his. No judgement. No fear. No. No no no. It could not be. Solas held her face in his hand and searched her eyes.

“Your name, tell me your name!” Her mouth opened and a scream escaped her lips.

“Noooo!”

Solas awoke in a cold sweat, disoriented and unsure of where he was. Another scream and a flailing Ma’alin brought him back quickly. He was in her bed, still holding her. She was in the throes of a terrible nightmare. “Solas!?”

He rolled her to face him, shook her. “I am here, lethallan. Open your eyes. I am here!”

Her eyes flew open in wide-eyed fear until she met his gaze. Her fists were balled up in his shirt. “I am here, Ma’alin.” He stroked her pale hair and the comparison of that with his dream sat uneasy with him. She looked at him with large grey-green eyes and her body began to relax. He ran his hand over her hair, soothing her.

“Solas…you’re here! You’re…” her voice was strained. She still held onto him tightly as if afraid he would disappear. Her words came out in a rush. “Oh, Solas. I never told you. I saw you at Redcliff. I saw you…I watched you die.” A tear escaped from her eye and ran down to her pillow. “You were so…at first it was red lyrium. You were infected with it. And then the demons came. You sacrificed yourself to save me. I…they threw your body through the door. I watched you die. And then I had to leave you like that!” She buried her face in his chest. She did not cry but she was overcome with reliving the emotions. He held her close and shushed her, whispering against her ear.

“I am here, Ma’alin. That future will never come, you’ve seen to that. I know it feels real, but it is only a dream. I am here.” He held her until her breathing began to slow and resume a steady cadence. “It was a dream this time”, she said. “But it was real for me.”

Solas felt uneasy at her words. His dream was still in his thoughts. It had to have been a dream. And yet it felt more real, more fluid, like the fade. The young girl’s eyes haunted him. No. He was seeing Ma’alin’s eyes in his dreams.

He wrapped his arms tighter around Ma’alin and drew her in closer. He would not let her go. He would surround her with barriers and keep out the awful dreams.

“Sleep, lethallan. You are safe. No one will harm you here.”

Her voice was drifting off, sleep dragging her away.

“I knew you would come…”

He held her tight, his features contorted in anguish, and he buried his face in her ivory hair. It had not been a dream.

Solas did not sleep the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the familiarity that Ma'alin feels with Solas? We get a bit of a tease here. In the original transaction our Solas was not there physically. But it is highly probable to say that an aspect of Fen'harel was there to protect one of his pilgrims at his long forgotten shrine. 
> 
> I hope you like it.


	6. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition has received an invitation to the upcoming Halamshiral ball. There are plans to be made, formal dresses to be commissioned, and dance steps to be learned! Yes, it is as painful as it sounds!
> 
> But there are also moments of surprise. The members of the Inquisition are catching glimpses of Solas they had not seen before. He has a gift planned for Ma'alin, and she has one more confession to share before they can consider a relationship together. 
> 
> And there is a lesson learned of what happens when you are seduced by a mage. <3

Morning found Ma’alin wrapped in strong arms, a soft breath upon her ear. He had stayed. His right hand cupped around her ribcage, pressed up against the underside of her breast. His left arm was her pillow, cradling her head in the crook of his arm. His right leg was entwined within hers. She did not want to move. Not ever. 

A knock at her door, and soft footsteps padding up the stairs. So much for well laid plans. 

“Josie…one moment, I am not dressed.” Josie’s soft voice answered from the lower landing, “I will wait here, but please hurry. We have much to do!”

Solas stirred and began to withdraw, feet softly landing on the wooden floor. Ma’alin rolled quickly and rose to her knees before him. She pressed her finger to her lips to shush him, then leaned in for a quick kiss. His hands cupped her face and his tongue sought entry into her mouth, sucking at her breath, and letting a small moan escape into her mouth when their tongues met. He pulled back, a wolfish grin upon his lips. He pressed his finger to his lips. She waved to the closet door and he hurriedly slipped within and softly pulled the door closed. 

Ma’alin reached for a robe but realized she was still dressed. That was convenient. 

“Come up, Josie.”

Josephine rushed in, hands full of papers, commissions, fabric swatches. “Oh, Inquisitor! We have so much to plan for! We have received an official invitation to the negotiations at Halamshiral and we must begin planning. We have so little time. I have taken the liberty of gathering some dress designs. Lady Vivienne should be consulted to ensure they are of the latest fashion. And then there are the dancing lessons! Oh dear, we have to get you into heeled slippers and…”

“Josie! Take a breath! One thing at a time!” Josie smiled. “Of course. Leliana and Vivienne await us in my study. Please join us.” She turned away and skipped down the stairs. The thud of one door closing led to the creak of another one opening. 

 Solas exited his hiding place. “It would seem you are to be made a spectacle of at the ball. No doubt there are such machinations at play that Orlais will be speaking of you for years to come. An elven Inquisitor in their court. All eyes will be upon you.” His stoic expression had returned. 

 She stood up straight and felt her chin lift in indignation. “I will not be made into anything. I will go as myself or I will not go at all.” 

 Solas stepped towards her, gliding silently, hands clasped behind his back. He lingered before her, shoulders back, looking down at her. “Is that so? You would walk among the nobility as an elf in bare feet, vallaslin, and borrowed Inquisition gear and ask to be taken seriously? Or are you something more than what they think you are?”

 He was challenging her. She looked into his eyes, stepped forward and let him see the heat in her eyes. “I am much more than they think I am. And you would do well not to assume you know everything I am as well.”

 His eyes closed slowly and opened, a look of pride spread upon his face. “There she is, my fox, the vixen. Show us, Ma’alin, what you are capable of. Make them never forget you.” 

 Her head tilted and she tried to decipher the impassive look upon his face. “Say what you’re thinking, Solas.”

 “I’m saying this is your legacy, Inquisitor. Not theirs. Make your mark. You decide how you shall be remembered.” He leaned in and kissed her lips gently. “Now, you have matters to attend, as do I.”

 Ma’alin tugged at his sleeve as he turned away. “What are you up to, Solas?”

 He glanced at her with a secretive wink and smile. “You shall see.” 

 

 

The day was dragging on. Josie, Leliana, and Vivienne had monopolized her attentions all day in order to plan for the negotiations at Halamshiral. They weren’t any closer to finalizing the details than they had been two hours ago. There were too many details in this great Game of Orlesian politics and there was no consensus as to how the Inquisition should play the Game. The Duke Gaspard had issued the invitation and the Inquisition was to be his guest at the negotiations. Ma’alin would be presented to the Empress Celene for all to see and the future of their cause hinged upon the events of that night. 

 “No, it is not enough! We need at least five footmen per carriage and at least three carriages. Anything less would be considered in poor taste!” Josie was exasperated and hurriedly taking notes on her pad, scribbling furiously. 

 Leliana paced back and forth. “We cannot rent them, it would make the Inquisition look like a farce. Perhaps we can conscript them.” Vivienne sat on the edge of the seat of a highbacked chair, and gracefully crossed her legs. “And be the laughing stock of Orlais? No, we can use Duke Bastien’s livery. They are at my disposal and the horses are the very best of Orlesian breeding. We shall have full use of the footmen as well. Seven carriages, eight horses and seven footmen per carriage.”

 Ma’alin’s head was beginning to swim. Fourty-nine footmen, fifty-six horses, three advisors, three companions, one dubious Duke Gaspard, and one overwhelmed elven Inquisitor.

 Vivienne glided over to Josie, pulled out the fabric swatches, and dropped them on the desk as if her skin were tainted merely by the touch them. “These will not do, Josephine. I shall send for my personal seamstresses from home. And the fabrics must be imported. She cannot be seen wearing materials cobbled together for Fereldan dog lords. It would be scandalous. Brocades, silks, gems. I will provide these.” Vivienne turned her attention to the Inquisitor who had sunken into Josephine’s chair. Suddenly they had all turned their attention to her. Oh no. 

 Vivienne tsked and sighed. “You are so…mottled, my dear. Too much sun. And your hair….we need to make you shine.” She looked to Leliana. “Are we still playing up this Andraste’s Herald rumor? We could make her hair into a golden crown.” They began discussing what to do with her hair, should they color it, what was in vogue for the season, should it be shorter or longer or…

 That was enough. Ma’alin stood up and slammed her hand on the table. Silence and three pairs of eyes centered upon her. 

 “Enough. This is ridiculous. Josie, I understand we must maintain decorum but we are the Inquisition, not nobles kissing Royal ass. Three carriages, no more. Cullen, Leliana and you in one, my companions in the second, and the Duke and I will arrive in the third.” Josie sighed, scratched out her previous notes and began a new list. 

 “Vivienne, what is the minimum required for horses and footmen?” Vivienne glared at her and crossed her arms over her chest. “Those are large carriages, Inquisitor. The minimum is not an acc-“ Ma’alin glared at her. There was no love lost between them due to their differing beliefs over mage rights and freedom but she had been trying to keep it civil. “The minimum, please, Vivienne.” she almost growled. Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Six horses. Four footmen. Minimum.”

 “Josie, six horses. Five footmen. And let me see these gown designs.” Leliana spread out the designs before her. Her palms began to sweat. The gowns were lovely, if you didn’t mind looking like the frilly rainbow cream puffs served in the tavern. Bull loved those. But these cream puffs would cinch her in to an unnatural shape, cover her legs in seven layers of skirted hell and have her breasts pushed up to her chin. She rubbed her eyes and laughed. All three women looked at her in surprise. 

 “Tell me, ladies…how am I supposed to fight or defend myself dressed like that?!” Leliana and Josie exchanged sheepish glances and said nothing. Vivienne’s look quickly turned to great displeasure. They hadn’t even considered it. She shook her head. Josie was the first to speak. 

 “We must acknowledge decorum, Inquisitor, show that we are major players in the Game, and a force to be taken seriously. I know it is not what you prefer, but this must be done.” Vivienne tossed the fabric swatches on the table before her. “Let her wear the fabric of her people. I’m sure burlap and rabbit fur will become all the rage next season.”

 That was it! Ma’alin stepped around the desk and stood before the tall, elegant mage who’s eyes viewed her with disdain. 

 “You are here by my grace, Lady Vivienne. If you have an issue with me there is nothing keeping you here. You can step up and start acting as the vital Orlesian asset you claim to be or you can get out of my sight.” 

 Vivienne looked at her cooly, considering her next move. She sighed. “We need black silk and the softest black leather. We are going to present you as the dark horse, my dear. I shall send for my seamstresses immediately.” 

 Hours passed and the details were endless. Ma’alin sketched her design for a dress as the ladies worked it all out. Once everything was settled she slid the design across Josie’s desk. 

 Josie’s eyes flew open wide. “That is…shocking! Can we get away with that?” Leliana stood over her and appraised the design. “It is daring. It would ensure that we have every eye in the room upon her. With that much skin they just might spend more time gasping at the audacity than at the fact she is an elf. Vivienne?” 

 Vivienne glanced at the sketch and appraised the cut of it. “It is not the fashion of the court. They will be in shock, Celene especially. It is audacious and very provocative. That neckline ends just barely above the navel and the slits on the thighs…it’s all very primitive and shocking! Yes, my dear, it is perfect. You will be the inspiration for many seasons of fashion to come and the recipient of at least three marriage proposals.”

 “Now,” Josie beamed, “comes the dance lessons!” Ma’alin laid her forehead against the desk and moaned. 

 Ma’alin did not sleep in her bed that night. Josie informed her that the afternoon showers had revealed leaks in her bedroom ceiling, soaking her mattress and carpets in her bed chambers. Repairs had to be made but should only take a few days. Solas had been scarce. Between her meetings, Josie’s dance lessons, and his personal project she had not had a chance to see him. She shared Josie’s bed that night and they spent several hours laughing and drinking wine. 

 Ma’alin had never spent so much time with a human woman. Josie had become her closest friend at Skyhold, always so respectful and diplomatic. Her enthusiasm was infectious. Josie held up the sketch of Ma’alin’s dress design and surveyed it. 

 “It’s so revealing! I couldn’t dare wear it. But it covers everything so well. It’s really quite tantalizing. You think you’re seeing more than you really are. The Inquisitor is a tease!” Ma’alin took a sip of her wine. Josie glanced at her. “I wonder what Master Solas will think of it?”

 Ma’alin choked on her wine. “What?” Josie smiled. “Do you think he’ll approve? I wonder how he will react to all those people ogling you?” Her coy smile and playfulness made Ma’alin smile. 

 “Does everyone know?” she asked. Josie shrugged. “Some do, most suspect. It is hard not to see the regard he has for you when he looks at you.” 

 She considered the sketch. “He may or may not approve. But I have to do this my way. I can’t pretend to be an Orlesian lady in their lace trimmed gowns, corsets, and white gloves. I don’t even wear small clothes most of the time.” Josie laughed and blushed, “so shocking!” and they giggled together. Ma’alin was grateful for moments like these. 

 “Thank you, Josie. Thank you for all you do. You make this much more bearable.” Josie gave her a knowing smile and patted her hand. 

 “I cannot imagine how different this must be for you. Do you miss your clan?” Ma’alin frowned, ran her fingers over the embroidery on Josie’s bedspread. 

 “Honestly, Josie, I do not. I was not what they expected me to be.” The conversation was taking a depressing turn. She met Josie’s eyes and smiled. “But I am here now and that is what matters.” 

 Josephine smiled. “We are lucky to have you. Now, to sleep! You have more dancing lessons tomorrow.” Ma’alin moaned and flopped face down into her pillow. 

 

In the afternoon the great hall had been cleared out, the nobles and courtiers dismissed, and the members of the Inquisition had been summoned for Josie’s dance lessons.

 Blackwall stood against the wall with Iron Bull, both looking as if they would rather have their teeth pulled than be trapped in this room. Sera sat on a table drinking and bitching about the stuffed up nobles and their asshattery customs. Cole sat on the floor looking confused. Dorian and Vivienne discussed court fashions and both snickered at the “hobo apostate” Solas who had just joined them and now leaned against the doorway to his rotunda. He had been missing all morning and now stood, nondescript, in the background. Varric and Cassandra stood side by side, arms crossed over their chests, in mutual agreement that this was a waste of time. Ma’alin did not envy Josie with the task she had at hand. Commander Cullen had just entered when Josie grabbed him by the arm and ushered him to the group. 

 “You are just in time, Commander. We are in need of an experienced dance partner.” Cullen flushed and stammered. “But I….no, this is ridiculous.” He tried to veer off but was quickly pushed towards Ma’alin by a forceful ambassador. Josie cued the trio of musicians, positioned the Commander and Ma’alin and began her instructions. Ma’alin shared a pained look with Cullen. He placed one hand at her waist and curled her fingers in his other. He pushed off awkwardly at first but after a few steps he found his rhythm. They swept around the room following Josie’s instructions on the proper steps. Shoulders back, head up, and smile. 

 Josie began to pair the others for instruction. Varric and Cassandra. Blackwall and Sera. Dorian and Leliana. Iron Bull and Vivienne. Ma’alin noticed that Cole had disappeared and Solas stood solitary by the wall with no dance partner. The afternoon dragged on and Ma’alin’s toes had been stepped on so many times that her smile had turned to a grimace. She had danced twice with Cullen, once with Blackwall, three times with Dorian and once with Varric. She and Bull hadn’t even made it through one dance, too many missteps and “shit!…sorry, Boss” for Josie to ignore. She had been paired with Cullen again. 

 Cullen held her waist and guided her in practiced steps. She looked to find Solas and found him in conversation with Varric, looking vexed as he glanced up and saw her dancing with Cullen. He actually looked a bit jealous. 

 The Commander cleared his throat and drew her attention away. “Inquisitor, we haven’t had much time to talk lately. I uh, I’ve missed, that is to say you have been missed, from our daily meetings. I was wondering…with the ball, are you, um, that is to say would you consider…” She looked at him, feeling the tension in his body. “What is it, Cullen?” He swept her a little ways away from the group and his hand was like fire against her lower back. His dark amber eyes caressed over her face. “I was curious, if you have anyone that…well, that you would consider, or do consider already…important to you? Maker’s breath! I’m saying this badly! I wanted to know if you have an escort for the ball or…?” 

 Once upon a time she would have enjoyed being asked that from Cullen. Now her attentions were decidedly fixed upon someone else. “Yes, I do. But if I did not, I can think of no one else it would give me more pleasure to go with than you.” Cullen glanced towards the watchful eyes of Solas. “Do you trust him?” he asked. Ma’alin nodded. 

 Cullen stopped the dance in mid-step and turned to Josephine. “I apologize, Ambassador, I have other matters I need to attend to and those matters do not require dancing. Please excuse me, Inquisitor.” Cullen turned on his heel and walked away briskly, waiving off Josie’s protests that he was needed. 

 Ma’alin watched him leave and became aware of Solas’ presence at her side. “May I step in for the Commander, Josephine? I will endeavor to do him justice.” Josie was relieved to have an even number of partners. “Master Solas, yes please!” She aligned their bodies, placed their hands, and instructed Solas on acceptable body distances and which steps to lead with. Meanwhile, Sera and Blackwall had abandoned their dance for drinks and laughs in the corner. Dorian and Leliana were gliding in practiced steps in very wide, showy figure eights and spins. Iron Bull was clunking about and mumbling many ‘yes ma’ams’ to Vivienne as she chided his lumbering steps that resulted in him stepping on her very expensive boots. Varric and Cassandra were the surprise, though. Varric glided with style and guided Cassandra around the floor in such a way that she actually appeared to be enjoying herself. 

 Josie finished her instructions to the two novice elves and looked more than a bit worried at the pairing of the two of them. “Oh I don’t know, perhaps we should pair you with Vivienne….”

 Before she could finish, Solas had stepped in and pulled Ma’alin close to his body, ignoring Josie’s instructions on acceptable body distances. He stepped off in a long glide and guided her in a sweeping waltz step. His hand at her waist pressed their hips together and his other hand held hers tightly and pressed it against his chest. Ma’alin was being guided into a dizzying set of steps that made the hall around her spin. Solas moved with such grace that she barely felt the floor. His eyes locked with hers and his lip curved in an amused smile. 

 Quick, quick, slow. Step, step, glide. Spin. Repeat. Ma’alin placed her right hand around the base of his neck to hold on as he swept her across the floor. His gaze was an intense heat that ignited that fluttering feeling deep within her. He looked as if he could devour her with his eyes. She had little experience with shemlen dances but she had never met an elf who could dance like this! The pressure of his body against hers, the way he looked at her, the way he moved with such grace left her feeling like the rest of the world had melted away. She heard herself giggling and threw her head back, enjoying the dizzying blur of the candle light from the chandeliers. 

 Solas let go of her waist and spun her in a circle then bowed before her before releasing her hand. Ma’alin tried to catch her breath then noticed the stares. No one else was dancing. She and Solas had cleared the floor. Josie and Leliana stood with looks of shock on their face. Varric broke the silence. “Well, that was unexpected. Ruffles, I think Chuckles has us covered on the dancing front. What’s next? How not to offend Orlesians by breathing?” Leave it to Varric to break the ice. Everyone began to shuffle about and Leliana tried to assure Josie that it would all work ok one way or another. 

 Solas leaned into her ear and whispered. “I still have that surprise for you, lethallan. Say your goodbyes when you are ready and meet me.” 

 The group was gathering to go to the tavern for drinks. Solas said his farewells and politely excused himself to jibes of “old man”, “grandpa” and “stick in the mud” for not partaking in the revelry. Ma’alin glared at Sera and that stopped the majority of the jibes. Ma’alin excused herself  as well and closed the doors to the great hall as the last of them filed out. Through the door she heard Dorian’s voice, “Don’t do anything I would do!” followed by laughter. She shook her head. Everyone knew now. 

 

Solas awaited her at the end of the great hall, leaning against her chamber door. Her heart danced at the anticipation of the type of surprise he may have in mind. 

 “Solas, what are you up to?” A coy smile crossed his lips. He reached out for her hand and held the door open for her. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than he had her pushed against the wall and his mouth was pressed upon her own in a savage kiss. 

 She moaned in surprise and grasped at his shirt. He pressed hard into her, his hips pressed against hers, his hands worrying at her shirt hem until he found flesh and running his fingers across her stomach and rib cage. He nipped at her lower lip, ran his tongue across the parting  of her lips, and his tongue sought hers again until they began to feel as one. His hands stopped short of reaching her chest and she involuntarily arched against him, urging him on. She ran her hands down his lean stomach to his hips and he paused. He pulled away and looked into her eyes, his own were hooded and full of desire. She pulled at him, a tightness in her middle not wanting the kiss to end. 

 “I have a gift for you. It is your turn to close your eyes.” She quirked her brow, eaten up with curiosity. Solas waited until her eyes were closed then he lifted her again and carried her gently up the steps to her bedroom. He set her feet upon the floor and stood behind her, his hands encircling her waist. 

 “You need a place where you can be you, not the Inquisitor. I took the liberty of making some changes. I hope you approve. Open your eyes.”

 Ma’alin opened her eyes and gasped. Gone was her Orlesian bed, silken sheets and decorative pillows. Gone were the Feraldan rugs and plain draperies. In the center of the room stood a giant four poster canopy bed, covered in hand carved images of vines, leaves, trees, and delicate flowers. The wood was a deep mahogany and very, very old. Ma’alin had never seen anything like it. Her rugs had been replaced with soft fleece throws that looked like cream colored clouds upon the stone floor. Dark green velvet drapes embroidered with golden arrows had been hung upon her windows and tied back to frame the beautiful night sky from her balcony. She stepped to the bed and ran her hands down the carved woodwork. She could almost feel the history of the wood. How many couples had made love in this bed? She could only imagine the stories it could tell. 

 The bedding was made of rich cottons and wools, dyed in colors of cream and sage green with gold and copper leaves and vines embroidered in the comforter. She ran her fingers along the edge of the sheets and pillows. The sheets were so soft they felt like velvet. She could not stop touching them. Solas came up behind her. “There is one more surprise. Lay down, please.” 

 She crawled onto the soft mattress and reached out to pull him in with her. He crawled in next to her and laid her upon her back. He leaned over her, stroking her hair. “I cannot give you the world, Ma’alin but I can bring you the stars. Look up.” Ma’alin looked up and she was speechless. The top of the canopy was open to the ceiling. Through that she could see the sparkling lights of stars beaming through from the great ceiling of Skyhold. “Leaks in my ceiling, huh? Solas…how?” Solas smiled warmly. “I had help. Josephine brought in the workers and we moved the bed while you were occupied in your meetings. The small circles of glass were cut from the broken windows in the north tower and installed in the roof as skylights. This way you may sleep under the stars every night.” 

 Ma’alin could feel the emotion welling up in her throat. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she was overwhelmed at the gesture. Of all the things she missed from home, sleeping under the stars had been the most mourned loss. Solas gazed at her face, tracing the branches of her valasslin with the tip of his finger. “Solas…I don’t know what to say, It is so beautiful.” His voice was husky and low, “You are so beautiful. I must admit, when I saw you dancing with Cullen today, his hands upon you, I was overcome. I wanted to steal you away right then. The thought of another’s hands upon you made me come undone.” 

 She could feel doubt creeping in upon her happiness. She had told him she wanted to be with him and yet she hadn’t been completely honest with him. If she did not confess now it would be too late. Her heart was in her throat. He was leaning in to kiss her again. She placed her hand upon his chest and stopped him, their lips almost touching, his earthy smell of wood and leather all around her. 

 “Solas, you should know, I am promised to another.” The words came out matter-of-factly and his fingers stilled their tracing on her cheek. His hand moved from her face to the empty space between them. He pulled away from her and she turned to look at him. His brow was furrowed. His eyes narrowed and his jaw was clenched. 

 “Ir abelas, Solas. I did not know when was the right time to tell you. In truth, I have no intention of marrying him. It was arranged and never something I wanted. However, if I go back to my clan when this is over then that is what awaits me there.”

 He studied her features, looking for deception, she assumed. “Do you love him? Have you been with him?” She felt raw and exposed under his gaze. “No. He was picked for me by the Keeper. I’ve spent enough time with him to get to know him but I have never been with him, Solas. He is not for me.”

 Solas left her side and sat up, looking straight ahead. She sat up slowly, curving her body against his back and resting her chin between his shoulders. He was withdrawing from her. 

 “Solas, while I may have been appointed as First of my clan, I do not fit in with them. I never have. Their ways are not my ways. I was always on the outside looking in." She breathed a heavy sigh, placing her palm against his back, laying her cheek on the back of his shoulder. "My parents were gone, long dead, and the Keeper....well, for a long time I thought I was fortunate to have a Keeper, a mentor, who looked over me. She named me, gave me the pendant. I carried that symbol proudly. In truth, she watched over me to to keep me separate from the clan. With the pendant she was labeling me the fox as a traitor, a rebel, a follower of Fen’harel and companion to the Dread Wolf. I became a cautionary symbol to my clan and made First so they could make an example of me. I was promised to a man who would continue that legacy. It was never about love.” Everything within Solas became more tense, more agitated. She could feel him turning to stone under her touch. 

 “Solas, I was sent to the conclave as punishment for my disobedience. If I didn’t come back alive....well, seeing as how I am still very much alive, my clan will feel that a debt is owed. If I were to return to them I would be forced to marry and to conform to the traditions. Please, please look at me.”

 Solas only half turned his head toward her. “This is why the Dalish are fools. They are ignorant children playing at being something they cannot even comprehend. They are an insult to the people. What do they touch that they do not spoil?” 

 Ma’alin felt a gaping hole in her chest. She had ruined everything. She withdrew from his shoulder and began to turn away. She was stopped by a firm hand around her wrist. She turned and was crushed to see the look of anger and disappointment upon his face. “Solas…”

He pulled her back to his side on the bed and leaned in close to her. She could feel the waves of anger rippling over him. It was suddenly becoming very cold and small wisps of ice were floating in the air around him. What had she done? He was so angry that she was beginning to shake from the cold. 

 “Do not tremble before me, Ma’alin. It is not you I am angry with. But I will have the truth from you. Do you want to go back to your clan? Is that why you are telling me this?” She shook her head no. 

“Are you telling me this to force me into a decision?” She shook her head no again. 

“Once this is over, are you going back to them? Are you going to marry this man you do not love?” She shook her head no. “Never, Solas.This is my home now.”

 Ma’alin reached up and placed her hand upon his cheek. He did not flinch. “Solas, I would rather roam this land as an outcast than to forsake you for another.” His eyes closed, the frost began to dissipate. Ma’alin held her breath. 

 After many moments he finally relaxed and he leaned his cheek into her hand. She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She slid over his crossed legs until she was sitting astride his hips and her face was mere inches from his. His hands came to rest upon her waist. She leaned her forehead against his and she could feel his furrowed brow beneath hers. 

 “Solas, I tell you this because I want no secrets between us. How can I ask you to choose me if you do not know me?” He took a ragged breath, his hand grasping at her waist. “And you have all the time you need. Although, I do wish you would hurry up.” She leaned back to let him see her smile and a faint smile answered her in return, lightening the mood. 

 She kissed him gently. “Thank you. Thank you for the beautiful gift. No one has ever done so much for me. I do not have the words to tell you how much I love it.” He stroked her hair and caressed her back. “You are welcome, Ma’alin.”

 Solas looked at her with eyes that questioned. “Why Fen’harel? Why the Dread Wolf?”

 Ma’alin had never had to answer that question before. “Because he was the only one who answered when I prayed.” 

 Solas leaned in and claimed her lips in a slow kiss. His hands slipped up the back of shirt and caressed her skin. His fingers trailed vines up and down her sides and there was the faintest glimmer of frost touching her skin causing her to shiver. His hands trailed to her stomach, up her rib cage until his hands rested just below her breasts, her shirt hem bunched up against his wrists. 

 “Say no and I will stop, lethallan.” Her voice was raspy when it escaped with an enthusiastic, “Yes!”

 His hands withdrew from under her shirt and were instantly at her collar, deftly unbuttoning her jacket. She began to feel the hardness of him pressing against her as she sat upon his hips. He had her jacket undone and he pulled it down from her shoulders, not getting far enough to remove it before his lips were upon her collar bone. She reached her arms up to shimmy out of the sleeves and tossed her jacket to the floor. 

 His left hand slid between them to cup her bottom and his right hand slid up from her ribcage to cup her breast. He gently kneaded it as his tongue made circles upon the hollow of her neck and nipped at her flesh. Her hands ran over the top and back of his head, urging his kisses on. His cool tongue trailed kisses down the center of her chest and she arched against him, rolling her hips against the tightness of his breeches. He moaned and clasped his mouth to her breast, sucking and flicking her nipple with his tongue. 

 Her eyes closed, soaking in the feeling of pleasure, and how her body called out to him. His lips moved to her left breast, sucking and licking, teasing her with flicks that sent electric shocks through her. Everything was becoming so much more sensitive and the craving was expanding quickly within her. She could feel her pulse beating deep in her center and it was pressing against the length of him through their clothing. She rolled her hips against him again. He grabbed her and flipped her onto her back, laying on top of her between her thighs, pressed so hard against her. 

 She reached up to him, to bring him closer but he remained propped up on his forearms, and gazing at her with a tender look. “Close your eyes, Ma’alin.” She looked at him curiously. “Close your eyes. Let me give you something that is real....” His fingers traced over her face and rested upon her lips. “...let me give you what you are giving me.”

 She closed her eyes and laid back. His fingers trailed down her neck and his lips kissed just below her ear. She shivered. “Leave your fears behind…” he whispered against her skin. 

 He kneeled between her thighs, unbuttoned her breeches, and gave a soft tug. She was nude before him and his fingers trailed from her sternum to the crest of her hip. “You are so beautiful.” She shivered from his touch and he gently laid beside her, cradling her head in his arm, running the fingers of his free hand up and down her body. But he did not touch her where she was most craving his touch. His lips were at her ear, his voice husky and full of desire. “When I am with you, there is no reason to pretend…”

 Suddenly she felt awash in waves of warmth undulating against her bare skin and she gasped. The heat followed his fingers and she could feel the waves of mana emanating from him. Her anchor sparked in response as she reached up to cup her hand to his face. His fingers spread small licking flames across her body that chased away the cool breeze that came in from the windows. 

 She basked in the heat from his touch and moaned softly. It felt like the heat from the summer rays of the sun caressing her body. She was beginning to ache for him. She turned her face to his and his lips met hers, spreading warmth across her lips. 

 The heat from his fingers continued to pulse as they caressed her breasts and the lines of her hips. He was going to drive her mad with want if he did not touch her! She reached down and ran her hand along his hip and to the hot length of his member pressed against his pants. Before she could do anything further she felt a surge of his mana as it pressed against her and surged within her. 

 She moaned against his lips. Currents of energy mingled with the heat of the flames and began to stimulate the deep ache within her core that pulsed wildly between her thighs! She never knew magic could be used in such a way! It felt as if he was within her, pulsing under her skin, caressing her from within. She leaned her head back, arching her body against the pulsing rhythm that he was casting into her. His lips were upon her neck, his fingers teasing her breasts, but his mana was causing her to writhe and gasp. She pressed the palm of her hand against his member and applied pressure, caressing with the same intensity which he pressed into her with his mana. 

 She was so close, her eyes shut and seeing stars, gasps escaping her lips as everything within her tightened to point of madness. Solas’ lips came to her ear, softly panting under her caress, and he moaned her name softly. 

 “Ma’alin, it has been so long…” he whispered. She moaned in response, reaching out to the release that was threatening to shatter her. His silky voice was in her ear, “I never thought I would meet someone like you, someone who could make me remember who I was. When I am with you, I feel flames again....”

 The warm tendrils of flame erupted into great hot wisps that warmed her skin but did not burn and her skin was singing with the caresses of heat that flooded over her. His mana surged and swirled within her core, exploding and spreading within her from her center and branching out to her fingers and toes. It was so strong that it sent her over the edge and began to uncoil the tightness he had created within her. She moaned as the waves of her orgasm began to consume her.

 His fingers traced her jaw, and he kissed the edges of her lip. “Come to me, lethallan.”

 With that another surge pushed within her and shattered what was left. Her head was thrown back, gasping and panting, her hand pressed hard against him. She felt him roll against her hand and his breath was coming more quickly against her ear. She was riding a wave of euphoria, still feeling the waves of mana and the heat of the flames against her skin. She pressed harder against him, cupping him within her hand. Oh Gods, he was so hard and the length and girth of him was surprising. 

 His gasps quickened and his body tensed. He sucked in his breath in a hiss and she continued to stroke him as his mana stroked her, sending waves of pleasure through her. His forehead rested upon hers as his body released and his urgent moans filled her ear. A bright flash of warm light could be seen through her closed lids. She opened her eyes to see the last warm glow from the light of the fiery tendrils as they began to fade. His breath was ragged and he was biting back a moan. She pressed her lips to his and swallowed it, feeling it vibrate against her tongue and fill her mouth. He pulled away, resting his lips against her neck. 

 “These things you make me feel, you are wicked,” he whispered. She laughed, relaxed in his embrace. 

 “I am wicked? You just made love to me without even touching me! You are the wicked one.”

 Solas caressed her face, kissed her lips, and pulled the covers over her naked body. 

“I only teased you, lethallan. When I make love to you, you will know it.” 

 She moaned in his neck and curled into him. If that was only a tease then she was going to be truly undone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going nowhere fast and had to be rewritten, sorry for the delay. 
> 
> Solas' dialogue during their intimate encounter is from one of my absolute favorite songs by VAST called "Flames"
> 
> "Close your eyes  
> Let me touch you now  
> Let me give you something  
> That is real
> 
> Close the door  
> Leave your fears behind  
> Let me give you  
> What you're giving me
> 
> You are the only thing  
> That makes me want to live at all  
> When I am with you  
> There's no reason to pretend that  
> When I am with you  
> I feel flames again
> 
> Just put me inside you  
> I would never ever leave  
> Just put me inside you  
> I would never ever leave  
> You"


	7. All New, Faded for Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas searches the fade for more answers as to why Ma’alin feels so familiar to him.
> 
> Also Solas’ POV of the aftermath of his personal quest and the death of his friend. The loss of Wisdom spurs his desire to heed her advice and leaves him with the rare feeling of hope.

Solas lay next to Ma’alin, her body curled against his, feeling content yet weary. He should be keeping his distance. He should be cautious. He should not be lying here in her bed. All these things he knew and yet here he was, passion and affection overcoming his better judgement and prudence. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to be vulnerable to another being without constant fear of treachery, fear of being used or entrapped. He knew that he should walk away. There was little hope for a happy ending here. He sighed and closed his eyes tight. Her soft breath was warm against his back. 

Solas had become accustomed to the fact that he knowingly made poor choices time and time again. He would like to think that his age and experience had tempered his rashness but no, not in this case. He simply didn’t know how he could walk away now but he couldn’t stay. 

His time with her, with her not knowing who he was or what he had done…these were stolen moments. Curled against her, remembering the sound of his name upon her lips, he was an unrepentant thief. He dared not hope for more.

Closing his eyes in sleep, Solas began to slip into the fade, extending himself and searching for threads of memories. He began to search for her in the haze. Even here he could feel the faint hum of her vibration in the beyond just as he had when he encountered the memory of her in the glade beneath the shrine of an ancient forgotten wolf. He had questioned whether it had been Ma’alin or a spirit at play with his thoughts, and now he had no doubt. 

Solas had entered uthenera many, many years ago and, in his sleep, he had begun to walk the fade in search of others like him, of ancient memories, and to learn from spirits that inhabited the fade. In time, he had discarded his memory of his mortal being and began stalking the fade in the visage of the great wolf, a vaporous black visage with a triad set of rubescent eyes, a visage that he had since seen painted in the frescos of the Dalish as warning to intruders on the walls of the Dales and plains. 

As the wolf, Solas had roamed Thedas for many lifetimes. The memories were deep and hazy like a dream. Now that he no longer slept, those memories felt like loose threads that pulled from deep, dark waters. He had felt the tug, the pull of recognition, when he had encountered the elven girl, the young Ma’alin, in the fade. He had even interacted with her within the memory. He suspected that it had been the wolf, not him, that had saved her that day but that the twisting of the fade had contorted his perception, allowing him to see himself in the place of the wolf. Solas the man was walking in the footsteps of Fen’harel, the visage of the dread wolf, and the fade was folding in upon the memories allowing him to experience them again as if new. 

Solas reached out to the spirits hovering around the edges of the fade. He pictured her face and let them see the images of her in his mind, projecting them in a request. After a few silent moments, a small spirit reached out to him and beckoned him to follow. It moved slowly, lumbering, head down. A spirit of sorrow. It vibrated with her hum. Solas followed it into the great black fog and was engulfed in silence. 

Solas opened his eyes to the glaring sun and felt the heat of fire upon his skin. The spirit pointed to the West where a field lay engulfed in flames next to an ancient road. Solas nodded in thanks and began trekking across the untended fields. The hum was weak but he could feel it under his skin. She was here somewhere. 

Solas reached the road and looked out upon the burning field. This area had been cultivated previously but looked abandoned due to drought. The fields were dried tinder and were eagerly feeding the flames that swept over everything. In the distance he could make out large shapes licked in flames and spewing smoke. 

Aravels. The smoking remains of a Dalish convoy. 

He drew closer. The first body, charred remains of an elven warrior, lay at his feet. He had been cleaved so brutally that his head lolled in an unnatural position. The second body lay just feet away, disembowled and discarded. An archer with a yew bow that was burning with embers. Solas looked around. There were bodies everywhere. This was not an accident. This was a massacre. 

Large boot prints marked the earth. Solas could see images of Orlesian soldiers and horses swarming the camp, the screams and wails of the elves, swords swinging and torches blazing, as they cut through the Clan and butchered their halla. The aravels were set aflame with children still inside. And for what? 

Anger began to boil in the back of his throat. This is what had become of the people he had tried to save. They were hunted and slaughtered like rodents, left to rot in the fields and be eaten by scavengers. Solas crouched upon his heels and looked around him. His head drooped and a deep sigh escaped his lips. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the pain. He could feel the smoke burning his eyes, the heat upon his skin, and hear the crackling of the flames. Devastation. So much loss. 

His eyes flew open. There it was, so slight, so faint…thready but humming. Solas stood and began to search. He stepped over bodies, wrapping the end of his cloak around his nose to dull the stench of burning flesh. As he drew closer to the burning aravels it became stronger and he began to feel the tug of familiarity. His eyes searched the wood-line around the field. He scanned dark edges until he saw it. Crimson eyes and a jet form slinking along the edge, pacing in anticipation. He followed it’s gaze to the furthest aravel. Solas skirted around the edge of the carnage and heard a small child’s cry. The wolf crept silently, debating with itself. Through the smoke and flames Solas could make out a very small form. 

“Mammae? Maaaammme!” the cry called out from the smoke. Solas glanced to the wolf. The decision had been made. The dark ghostly wolf with ruby eyes had transformed into a milky white wolf with soft, cerulean eyes. It’s predatory stance had been replaced with a protective, submissive posture that softly padded from the clearing and sought the child’s cries. As the wolf, the visage of Fen’harel, approached the aravels Solas fell instep alongside it and the warm feeling of familiarity was beginning to spread over him. 

They walked around the largest spans of flames and found a child huddled next to an unburned body that lay pinned beneath a toppled aravel. The girl appeared to be four to five summers old, pale white tendrils of hair framing her soot and blood covered face. The child sat beside the pinned woman, who was also fair haired and wearing the same pale golden valasslin of Mythal that her daughter would someday wear. She appeared to be young with pale green eyes that had begun to turn milky in death. Deep stab wounds perforated her chest. There had been no chance for survival. 

The child held her blood covered hand and stroked it’s stiff fingers as she hummed a lullaby to the deaf ears of the dead. Solas’ felt his heart wrench in his chest. If loving tenderness could have brought a soul back from the beyond then there was no soul in existence that could have ignored this calling. The child began to despair again when she received no answer, no reassurance, and she began to cry out. “Maammae…wake up! Mamae, please! Please! Help us!” Her pleas were haunting as they echoed in the empty field. There was no one left to answer her. 

The wolf padded to the edge of the aravel, hummed a soft whimper, and waited until the girl looked up. She fell backwards, scooting away on her rear until she was pushed up against her mother’s chest and could go no further. The great wolf, easily three times the size of the girl, laid down upon the scorched earth and slowly crawled on it’s haunches towards her. Solas the man mirrored the same thoughts he had had then as the prostrate wolf, “Come to me, lethallin. There is comfort here.”

Solas looked at the girl, so small and delicate. Her large eyes, the same pale grey-green he was coming to know so well, stared back at the immense white wolf before her. Her hair was singed, and it was paler with the mark of youth, but she was undoubtedly Ma’alin. Her vibration was muted but it was unmistakably the same as the woman whose lips he now craved in his waking hours. Solas wanted to scoop her up in his arms and shield her from the ugliness that surrounded her now. 

The wolf whined again. Please, it said, let me help. Tears had formed clear rivers in the soot that stained her face. The wolf slowly raised itself from the dirt and walked towards her. A soft nudge at her shoulder with it’s black nose was all it took to dispel her fear. The child threw her arms around the neck of the wolf and buried her salt stained face deep in it’s fur. Her cries were muffled as her tears were renewed and lost within the alabaster coat of the dread wolf. The wolf buried it’s nose in her hair, breathing her in. She would not survive out here. A soft whine and the wolf laid at her feet, nudging her small form to it’s flank. Solas watched as the little girl climbed onto the back of the great wolf, laying her body along it’s great back and wrapped her arms around it’s chest. He could recall a small memory of how she clung to him and how she weighed almost nothing. 

Unlike the last memory in the fade, she appeared unaware of his presence. He glanced once more at the fallen woman, her features so similar to Ma’alin, and wondered if she had been a mage as well. He knelt and inspected her hands. No callouses from a bow or sword. Such a waste. He closed her eyes, took one last long look at the destruction, then followed the wolf and child through the flames and bodies to the worn path. The wolf weighed it’s options. The aravels were pointed north when they were overcome. He, the wolf, traveled through the fields and avoided the roads in search of another Dalish clan. 

Solas watched them go and searched for the next memory. He found the clan to the Northwest, three days travel from the death and destruction here. He pushed open the fade and stepped forward in time to find the clan and meet up with the traveling pair. 

The wolf and child were just crossing a creek several feet from him, the clan lay not far ahead. The child was dirty, worn, and her face was drawn from hunger. The wolf nudged her, pushing her towards the clan. Voices traveled from the campsite and he could not go with her. 

Ma’alin the child did not wish to part. She threw her arms around his neck. “No, no can go! Stay.” The wolf bowed it’s head, buried it’s nose in her ivory curls. She ran her fingers over the fur of the wolf’s face, ruffling the fur around it’s neck. Solas stood as still as a statue. His chest ached and the emotion was swelling in his throat as he watched the exchange. 

He remembered. He could suddenly remember as clearly as if it were happening now. He had wanted to stay. He had wanted to make right all the wrongs that he had caused that had created this terrible world that this child had to endure. She would never know how life should have been. However, staying with her, protecting her, would not have rectified the wrongs done against all his people. Solas could remember how deeply her tragedy affected him. She was an innocent and her best hope was growing up in a clan of strangers and being taught fables of fiction. 

The wolf was nudging the girl along, pushing her closer and closer to the clan, fighting her reluctance with gentle resistance. He had become her whole world and all she knew and she would not let go. The wolf nudged her until she fell back onto the ground and held her down with a large paw. She struggled against him, her eyes large and unbelieving at the rejection of her only friend. Voices were coming closer. The wolf threw back it’s head and howled so loudly that it echoed through the valley. The voices were stilled. The wolf nudged the child with it’s nose and pressed it’s forehead against that of the child’s as a final farewell. The hunters were coming. 

The dread wolf dashed to the woods and jumped into the tree-line just as the arrows began to stream in behind it. The ghostly white wolf melted into the vaporous jet visage once more and faded away into the blackness. 

Solas watched the hunters pursue the tracks into the woods and disappear. The Keeper approached the crying child that lay in the dirt and brushed the hair from her face. Solas recognized her from before, a smallish woman with dark brown hair and olive skin. She wore the  dark green valasslin of Ghilan’nain. “What is your name, da’len?” The child was choking back tears.

“Ivoriel,” she sobbed. The Keeper scooped her up in her arms and looked off into the distance where the hunters were examining the wolf tracks. 

“The Dread Wolf has caught your scent, Ivoriel. I pray to Mythal that you will not be the death of us.” The Keeper turned and carried the child towards the campsite. 

For a brief moment Solas locked eyes with the child draped over her shoulder. She saw him, reached out to him with her hands. Solas raised his finger to his lips. Ssssshhhhh, da’len. I am not here. She nodded her head and gave him a small wave with her tiny fingers. He waived back. The fade was warping around him again but this time there was no wolf around to observe. 

There was another pull intruding upon him. Something much more persistent, more immediate. Solas stepped away from the memories of the Dalish camp and stood in the nothingness, listening. There it was. Wisdom. His friend was calling to him, no pleading with him, for help! Swirling visions of the Dales, another Dalish camp, and mages pulling his friend from the fade against it’s will! Solas willed himself to wake. He must go immediately. He was too weak to free his friend if she became bound but Ma’alin would help, he knew she would, she had to!

 

_____________________________________________

 

Gone. 

His friend, his treasured companion, was gone. Wisdom had walked with him in the fade, counseled him against his rash inclinations, and had been a model for how he should have acted in so many ways. 

Wisdom had been twisted, destroyed, and begged him for release. 

Ma nuvenin, old friend. Dareth shiral. 

Take me with you, spirit. There is no wisdom here. 

Solas had been filled with rage when he saw the pride demon that had been Wisdom. His stoic mask of calmness had slipped and he raged against those who had dared to corrupt her. The Inquisitor and her companions had all taken a step back away from him, fearing his impassioned anger. He should have been more cautious, more aware of the watchful eyes, but he had not cared. He wanted vengeance. 

Ma’alin had done everything in her power to save his friend, even risking injury to herself by jumping infront of Dorian when the great demon raged and nearly tore through him with raking claws. She had pushed him away and dodged, just barely missing the claws that ripped through the tails of her coat. She called out to Blackwall and Varric to focus their attention to the south pillar of the summoning circle while she and Dorian worked on the north pillar in order to end his friend’s suffering more quickly. 

In the end, the outcome was the same. And Ma’alin did not stand in Solas’ way when he blasted the damned mages with molten flames that ignited them so quickly that the flesh on their faces cracked. She had looked away, perhaps vaguely remembering a time when she had seen charred bodies left to rot in the Dales. 

Solas had left her there. He needed time to think. 

He walked to the ruins of Var Bellanaris, finding little comfort in the ancient statues of Ghilan’nain’s hart statues. He pushed open the great doors of the tomb and descended the steps into the dank chambers where little light could be seen. He stopped before the tomb of some long dead Elvhenan brother. 

Solas collapsed to his knees, placed his head in his hands, and wept. 

Of all he had lost, he still had more to lose. Nothing was sacred anymore. Not in this world. He reached into the fade seeking Wisdom. He stretched out his mana seeking the hum of her vibration. There was nothing. Emptiness. A deep dark hole was in his chest and he could not fill it with wishing he had done more, or done less, or done at least one thing right! 

It was all his fault. There was so much blood and death on his hands that his spirit would never be clean. And he always hurt the ones he loved the most. They paid the price for his hubris, his pride, his impassioned nature. They paid in blood and death for his shortcomings. 

It would be better if he had never existed. Solas laid his face against the cold stone floor and his tears began to pool beneath his cheek. He should leave. The Inquisition would carry on without him. Any hope of recovering his power from the anchor was lost. The chances of recovering his orb were slim. At least in uthenera he could return to the beloved fade until his body wasted away and he was no more than dust. This world did not need him, did not want him. 

But Wisdom had asked him to carry on. She knew him better than any other being or spirit. She knew he had a reason to stay, a reason to keep trying, and a reason to keep fighting. 

Ma’alin. 

She was _real_ , a bright burning light in a world of darkness. If she was real, they could all be real. There could be hope of recovering what the people had lost if there were others like her. She gave him hope in moments like this when he had none.  

Thoughts of her washed over him, spreading warmth through his cold, aching chest. When he met her he felt the familiar pull of recognition but had not been able to place it and dismissed it. His visions in the fade, reliving memories of a time when he had lost himself in the visage of the dread wolf, and rediscovering pieces of his memories that he had buried and forgotten had changed how he viewed her. 

It was no wonder she worshipped Fen’harel and paid homage to the shrine of the dread wolf. Twice she had called out for help and protection and both times he, the wolf, had answered. 

What would she think of him if she knew the truth? Solas pushed up from the floor and stared into the darkness. What if…could it be possible that she could accept him? It was a wild notion, beyond belief, but for the first time in ages he could feel a faint glimmer of hope starting to take root. If there was anyone that could accept him, believe him, and maybe…just maybe, even love him…it would be her. 

She was his best chance for happiness, his best chance at walking a path with a loving partner as fiercely devoted to him as he could be to her. 

Solas’ grief was tempered by the memories of Wisdom who had encouraged him to seek Ma’alin’s comfort. He had dismissed her words then but now they resounded through him with his racing pulse. He could not give up. With her at his side he felt that he could conquer the world, right the wrongs, and reclaim what rightfully belonged to their people! 

Solas sat in silence in the darkness. Wisdom had always wanted him to let go of his anger and to seek out what was good. He could at least honor her by trying. 

Solas awaited the rising of the sun and set out for Skyhold.

________________________________________________

He was spotted long before he entered the garrison of Skyhold. Solas was so tired, he had journeyed for two days straight, and he was exhausted. A few curious onlookers watched him pass by and shook their heads at the state of his appearance. Solas kept his head high and slowly made his way to the courtyard. He looked up to see Ma’alin running down the great steps into the courtyard to greet him. Her expression changed from irritation to concern as she saw him. Any anger she may have felt at his absence was erased and replaced with compassion when she saw his sorry state. 

“Inquisitor.” He stood before her, within arm’s reach yet so far away. 

“Solas,” she stepped towards him, “I did not think you were coming back.”  He looked into her worried eyes. 

“I did not think I would either…for a time. But only a short time.”  He reached out to take her hand, running his thumb over the top of her hand. 

“You were a true friend. You did everything you could to help. I could hardly abandon you now.”  Ma’alin leaned in to him, placed her palm against his cheek.  “I know it may seem strange to you, but I appreciate what did for my friend. That matters to me. _You_ matter to me.”

“ _You_ matter to _me_. The next time you have to mourn you don’t need to be alone, Solas. I am here for you.”  His heart ached at her words, humbling him. 

“It has been so long since I could trust someone…”  She leaned in and kissed him gently upon his lips. 

“I know, Solas.”  All the emotion of the past few days welled up within his throat and made it hard to speak. 

He quietly whispered, “Thank you.”

____________________________

That night he had retired to his couch, thankful that everyone had left him alone to his thoughts. Varric kept a watchful eye from his post outside the door, waiving away curious onlookers. Dorian had brought him a mug of warm sweet cider, placing one hand on Solas’ shoulder in a brief reassurance before continuing on his way up the stairs. It still sat on the floor at Solas’ feet. 

He placed his head in his hands and rested his elbows upon his knees. The sinking, hollow feeling was returning and his eyes stung from welled up emotion. 

Soft steps. The calling of the anchor. Ma’alin. 

He could not look up. Could not will himself to move. 

She sat beside him, curling her legs beneath her. She hesitated for just a moment before she reached for his right arm and gently pulled him to rest his body against the back of the couch. She wrapped his arm around her shoulders and curled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest. 

Solas closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her as she had once clung to him when he was her only solace in a world destroyed. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in the faint smell of jasmine. She had become his anchor, the tie that kept him tethered to this world, a reminder of all that could be good again. She was his solace, his safe place, his hope for a future. He did not know if it was fate or chance that had brought them together, had entwined their lives together in such a way that was impossible to comprehend, but he had faith in Wisdom at times when he had no faith in himself. 

Come what may, he meant to keep her. He would not be separated from her again. He had his answer. Now he only needed to tell her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having lived for thousands of years I believe Solas/Fen'harel/dread wolf would have such a collection of memories that trying to recall a single one would take great effort unless there was a deep emotional attachment to it. 
> 
> Fen'harel is always portrayed as a trickster, a traitor, and a god to be feared. I believe he is a greatly misunderstood being and any good deeds he does or has done are overlooked or never seen. I think he is a very grey character with a compassionate heart. He cares. He cares a lot more than he lets on. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and I hope I can do the characters justice.


	8. Vhenan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous chapter, Solas is struggling with his grief as well as his inner struggle on whether or not he should commit to Ma'alin. 
> 
> In this chapter, the Inquisitor returns to find Solas gone but trusts him to come around when he's ready. A late night knock at her door brings a weary Solas and answers to what lies between them and before. 
> 
> This is the second canon Solas kiss from the game.

Ma’alin, Bull, and Dorian were hunkered down at one of the tavern tables. The guys were chugging down swill that she and Dorian had likened to dragon piss. The Inquisitor swirled around a glass of Orlesian red and welcomed the sweet burn it made in the pit of her stomach. They had just returned from yet another excursion through the Hinterlands and the last bit of trek through the snowy mountains of the Frostbacks always left her chilled to the core. She could just barely feel her toes. 

“Sooooo, where was the hobo apostate today? I figured he’d be joining you, enlightening us all with his adventures in the glorious fade.” Dorian smiled into his cup. 

“He needs some time. His mind is on other matters.” That was an understatement. Solas, the ever unflappable, was sorely distracted. One moment he was grieving for his friend, and the next he was lost deep in the thought as if pondering a heavy decision and could not be roused to engage with the crew. She had decided it was best to give him some time to sort some things out. 

Bull gruffed and glanced at Dorian. “He needs some time off. Sort some shit out. I get that.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “It was a DEMON. You blast it and send it back to the shit-encrusted fade hole it came from, yes?” Bull snarled. “I HATE demons! You can’t fuck around with those and call them friends. They aren’t like stray puppies. He brings one home and I’m outta here.”

Ma’alin tried to repress a smile and was only semi-successfull. “It wasn’t a demon when Solas knew it. Besides Cole is a spirit and we kept him.” 

Bull’s eyes widened. “Shit, I forgot that. But he looks like…us. Kindof. Only more…corpsey.” Dorian pointed to Bull’s head, “And much less horny,” and quirked his brow in a coy expression. 

Bull leaned over his cup towards Dorian, “The last thing someone can say about me is that I’m not horny.”

“And that’s my cue to leave you two to your cups…and whatever other debaucheries you have in mind.” Ma’alin excused herself from the table but her absence was hardly noticed. Their playful banter was quickly turning into heated foreplay. 

Ma’alin waived to Krem on her way out and hummed along to Maryden’s tune as she crossed the yard to the great hall. She glanced to Cullen’s tower and saw a shadow standing at his window. She waived and saw the shadow disappear. Eventually they would need to clear the air. Not tonight. Tonight she wanted a bath, her bed, and to fall asleep under her star filled skylights. 

Varric was snoozing in his reclining chair by the fire as she entered the hall. She stepped towards Solas’ door. “Not there,” said a groggy Varric. “Think he’s out fade walking somewhere all elfy and mystical. Been gone most of the day.” Ma’alin ruffled Varric’s hair. “Is there anything you don’t see, my dwarven friend?” 

Varric opened one eye. “Not much gets by me. And what does I can easily make up. Cassandra says I have a dirty mind. I prefer ‘sexy imagination’.” Varric sat up and looked at the lanky elf leaning against the fireplace. “Is he going to be ok? I thought he was going to wear a hole in the floor from all the pacing he’s been doing.”  
Ma’alin chewed her lip. She had wondered the same. He had confided very little in her regarding the matter but it was obvious that the loss of his friend was affecting him deeply. 

“My Keeper told me that strong silence harbors the deepest emotions. It’s always the quiet ones we must care for because they do not ask for help. He will come around. Until then, we show that we care.” 

Varric looked at her and smiled. “You’re wiser than your years, Vixen. You would like my friend Fenris, minus all the broody shit. Actually, bad idea. He’d give your moody apostate a run for his money. We all know how you women love broody.” Ma’alin smiled. “I’ve heard about your friend. Sounds tempting, but I have no desire to tangle with your friend Hawke over a broody elf. I have my hands full with my own broody elf. And he’s…well, he’s the one I want.” 

Varric’s face grew concerned. “Vixen, are you sure about that? Don’t get me wrong, I like the moody pain in the ass, call him a friend even, but are you sure he’s right for you?”

Ma’alin sighed. “Yes. I spent so many years feeling like a stranger among my own people. Coming back here at the end of the day, coming back to him….he feels like home.” 

Varric closed his eyes tight and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I know that feeling. Get some rest, Vixen. I’m sure he’ll come dragging back in here soon enough.” 

Ma’alin placed a kiss on Varric’s forehead. “Thank you for caring, Varric. G’nite.” 

Varric fought back a grin. “The frolicking is still going in my book.” The Inquisitor flicked his ear then headed to her chambers. Her bath was calling her name. 

__________________________________

Ma’alin dozed in her tub. The hot water was still warm but no longer steaming. Josie had received a fresh supply of jasmine and the pale petals skimmed across the top of the water. She had loved jasmine for as long as she could remember. The faint memories she had of her mother were always laced with jasmine. She couldn’t even remember her mother’s name but she remembered her smell. 

Ma’alin had made the scent her own by adding fresh white peach. Those were hard to come by here but Josie the miracle worker had commissioned a peach infused hair oil for her and it smelled divine. She palmed a few drops and ran the fragrant oil through the length and ends of her hair, making it shine. Stepping from the bath, she ran a light layer of the oil over her arms and down her body to her ankles. She had not had this since she came to Skyhold. The light peach fragrance reminded her of the pale blossoms she used to pick and lay upon the shrine of the dread wolf. She doubted that he would appreciate peach blossoms but she had wanted to share something she loved with the god who had saved her, changed her.

Ma’alin slipped into a creamy white shift that was loose and flowing, ending just above her knees. She’d never had night clothes before joining the Inquisition but Josie had insisted. Together they had chosen light billowy cotton shifts with soft lace edging and white satin ties beneath the bust to draw the fabric in close to her body. She couldn’t say she liked them more than lying nude in her covers but they were not unpleasant to sleep in.  
Ma’alin stood by her bed and said a silent prayer to the One who hunts alone. Guide me. Protect me. In times of danger, I know you will come. She crawled into bed, pulled her covers up to her chin, and closed her eyes. She hadn’t told anyone but she had been trying to channel her powers to enter the fade. Her power had always been so erratic that it was hard to control and at times she felt as if she were being dragged under and it controlling her rather than her controlling it. Lately, her attempts had resulted in her reliving faint memories that she had little to no control over. But the memories were different somehow, as if they were expanding. There had been the memory of the shrine of the dread wolf when she was still a girl and the shemlen man who had stalked her into the woods. She had seen the white wolf, had run to it and safety. But in the fade the wolf had changed to the shape of a man. She did not see his face but he felt just as safe. Perhaps she had a glimpse of Fen’harel’s true form. 

She did not have the energy to try and reign in her power tonight. The fade would have to wait. Sleep was calling her name. She gazed upon the stars in her ceiling until her eyes drifted shut. 

_______________________________

Ma’alin’s eyes opened. She held her breath. There it was. A soft rapping at her door. She jumped up and headed down the stairs. Was there something wrong? It was the middle of the night! She rushed as quickly as she could. When she reached the landing she opened the door to find nothing. She peaked her head out into the great hall and saw the back of a tall, broad shouldered figure stepping off the dais of the throne landing. 

“Solas!” He stood still, his back to her. She rushed out to meet him. Placing a hand on his arm she turned him to face her. Her heart ached. His face was contorted in grief, his eyes tired. 

“I am sorry. I should not have come. It is…I am sorry.” He tried to turn away from her but she still had a tight grasp on his arm. ‘Solas. Stay.” She took his hand and he did not argue. She turned and lead him to her door. He stood in silence as she secured the door and followed obediently as she led him up the stairs. 

She called for hot water and ran him a bath. She stepped in the water closet with him, adding drops of peach oil and jasmine to his bath. He stood silently, eyes tired and face drawn. She gently tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head. She unwrapped the bindings around his feet and calves. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and left him to finish undressing himself. After she heard the soft splash of water she knocked gently on the door. “Come in.” He spoke so quietly, so anguished that she could feel it on her skin. She pulled a stool up behind the tub, placed a washrag in the scented water and rung out the excess before scrubbing it softly across his shoulders. His head slunk forward as the warm water ran in rivers down his back. She dipped the rag again and brought it to the base of his skull, trailing it down his spine to the water line. 

She began a low hum, a memory of a lullaby she could remember from her childhood. She rubbed the hot water along the lines of his neck, along the plains of his collar bone, and along the slopes of his shoulders and arms. He had finally begun to relax, leaning back against the tub to let her wash his chest and neck. She set the rag aside and dipped her fingers into the water then ran her fingertips along his cheekbones, massaging his temples as she continued her soft humming. His eyes closed and a soft moan reverberated in his chest. With the small bit of strength she had, she channeled heat to her palms and fingers, caressing her hands over his head and across his scalp. 

When she was convinced that he was relaxed and the last signs of grief had drained from his face, she withdrew her hands and kissed the top of his head. “Take as long as you need then come to bed.” She withdrew from the room, closed the door behind her, and crawled into the bed. She sat upon the edge, feet dangling over the floor, and waited. 

Moments later Solas exited the closet, wearing his breeches only. He walked towards her and stopped, standing just before her. Their gazes met in the moonlight from the skylights. “Are you tired? May we talk?” he asked. She nodded her head. He wasted no time. 

“What were you like? Before the anchor?” This line of questioning was not expected. She glanced at the mark in her hand, lightly sparking as it always did when he was near. What had she been like? That had seemed ages ago now. So much had happened. 

He followed her thoughts. “Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind? Your morals? Your…spirit?”

Solas was rarely at a loss for words. She noted the hesitancy in his voice. “I don’t believe so.”

“Ah…” Solas looked away. Was his look disappointment? Puzzlement? Contemplation? It was hard to tell in the darkness. 

“Solas, why do you ask?” He turned to look at her again, appearing humbled and almost meek. 

“You show a wisdom I have not seen since…” his eyes darted away and when he looked back to her his expression had changed to one of excitement and enthusiasm, “…since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the fade. You are not what I expected.”

This was maddening. She wished he would get to the point of this questioning. 

“What have I done that’s so different?” His gaze was earnest and his eyes were locked onto hers. 

“You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours, have I misjudged them?” He looked at her expectantly. She knew what the Inquisitor should say but right now she was just Ma’alin. 

“The Dalish did not make me like this. The decisions were mine. I am guided by my conscience.” His eyes lit up. 

“Yes, you are wise to give yourself that due! Although the Dalish, in their fashion, may still have guided you. Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be.” Was he giving her the credit for her decisions or taking it away? He was talking in circles. 

“Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.” He looked proud, as if her achievements were his own. What was he getting at?

“So…what does this mean, Solas?” He reached out for her hand and ran his fingers over the top of hers. Cool frost tendrils began to snake their way across her flesh and kiss her skin.  
“It means I have not forgotten the kiss. And I still owe you an answer.” Her heart skipped a beat and her breath became shallow. Had he finally made a decision? She looked up at him with expectant eyes.

He peered into her eyes, so soft and gentle. He dropped her hand as she stood from the bed. His gaze never left hers but he was hesitating. She clasped her hands behind her back, shoulders back, chin lifted in a confident dare. She mirrored the regal pose he took so often when he was daring someone to contradict him, to challenge him, to dare to take him on. She slipped closer to him until she could feel his body heat against her chest. He began to lean in to her but stopped short. She dared him to come closer, close the gap and take the chance she was hoping he had decided to embrace. 

Instead, his gaze turned worried. His head began to shake. No. No no no. He was turning from her. She reached out to his arm and stopped him with a gentle tug. 

“Don’t go.” she softly pleaded. His body was framed in the moonlight streaming in from the windows and he continued to shake his head softly. She would not beg but she would not stand by and let him convince himself this was a mistake. She knew. She knew he was the one. And she believed he knew it too but his doubts and fears were making him overthink it. 

His voice was thick and husky. “It would be kinder in the long run. But losing you would….” Suddenly he had spun on his heel and grabbed her around the waist, crushing his lips upon hers. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled her body up against his to gain purchase and return his kiss with equal force. One of his hands slid down to cup her bottom, pulling her closer, just as he had in the fade at Haven. His kiss was sending warm shockwaves through her body and she responded by melting into him, slowing their kiss and deepening the caresses of her tongue against his. A soft moan escaped her and filled his mouth. She ran her fingers down his neck and to his bare chest, feeling his beautifully toned body beneath her fingertips. 

Solas’ kisses became fevered, rapid, then his mouth plunged in against hers again and the kiss became molten. She was on her very tip toes, her body pressed hard against his. He breathed her in as he held her close and nipped at her bottom lip. He pulled back slightly, his breath labored with reserved emotion. His hands slid to her waist and he rested his forehead against her own. 

“Ma’alin…I have never wanted to be with anyone in the way I want to be with you.” Her pulse began to soar in her ears. She felt lightheaded on her toes. 

Solas closed his eyes and his body began to slide down against hers. She gasped as he gracefully slid to his knees before her, his hands grasping the cusps of her hips and pulling her belly against his face. He buried his face in the concave just below her breasts, balling the fabric of her shift within his hands as he held her close. She did not know what to do. She cupped her hands on his face. Solas grasped her left hand, where the anchor sparked and hummed up her arm, turned his face into it and placed a gentle kiss upon it. Holding the anchor in his hand, he turned his face to her other hand and gently placed a kiss within that palm as well. 

Ma’alin was in a state of shock. Never, never would she have imagined Solas, the proud and stoic Solas, getting on his knees before anyone. 

“You are my anchor.” His words were warm against her skin, moist against her shift. He held her hands in his, stroking his thumbs across the back of her fingers. He looked up and his eyes met hers, his face illuminated in the moonlight streaming from the windows. His gaze was earnest, honest, hopeful but cautious. 

“Wherever you are, no matter how far you are from me, know that I adore you. But if you want me to let you go…I am more than willing.” 

She looked at him in surprise, and felt a warm tingling that stung her eyes and threatened to spill over in tears. He would stay or he would go based solely upon what she wanted? How could he doubt what she wanted? His words were generous but she did not want the out he was offering her. Her voice cracked and all she could manage was, “Solas…”

His mouth curved in a small, slight smile and his eyes were warm and full of passion. 

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” His words were soft, tender, heartfelt. Ma’alin felt all the tension drain from her body and a warm glow began to spread all throughout her. She gently pulled on his hands until he rose and stood before her. He leaned down to her and stroked the hair that fell around her face and down her shoulders, his fingers grazing her face. 

Her body shook with emotion and he leaned in to kiss the unshed tears from her eyelashes. His lips were soft and warm against her skin. She tried to catch her breath, bring her senses back in order. 

She looked up and pulled his face to hers with gentle hands, pressing her forehead against his. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“Ma emma lath, ma vhenan’ara, Solas.”

“Ma vhenan’ara, Ma’alin.” He whispered back. He folded her in his arms, picked her up gently, and took her bed where he whispered to her until she fell into a deep sleep. 

“Sleep, vhenan. Peaceful dreams. I will protect you.” 

Ma’alin had never slept so well in all her life. For the first time in her life she had felt real love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven reference - 
> 
> ma emma lath (ma EHM-mah lath): you are my love
> 
> vhenan’ara (VEY-nahn-AHR-ah): heart’s desire
> 
> I used "ma vhenan'ara" to denote "my heart's desire" which may or may not be correct usage. 
> 
>  
> 
> Some of Solas' dialogue comes from the lyrics of "I Don't Want to Change You" by Damien Rice. Great Solavellan song. 
> 
> "Wherever you are  
> Well, know that I adore you  
> No matter how far  
> Well, I can go before you  
> And if ever you need someone  
> Well, not that you need helping  
> But if ever you want someone  
> I know that I am willing
> 
> Oh, and I don't want to change you  
> I don't want to change you,  
> I don't want to change your mind  
> I just came across a manger  
> Out among the danger  
> Somewhere in a stranger's eye
> 
> Wherever you go  
> Well, I can always follow  
> I can feed this real slow  
> If it's a lot to swallow  
> And if you just want to be alone  
> Well, I can wait without waiting  
> If you want me to let this go  
> Well, I am more than willing
> 
> Oh, 'cause I don't want to change you  
> I don't want to change you,  
> I don't want to change your mind  
> I just came across a manger  
> Out among the danger  
> Somewhere in a stranger's eye
> 
> Oh, and I don't want to change you  
> I don't want to change you,  
> I don't want to change your mind  
> I just came across a manger  
> Out among the danger  
> Somewhere in a stranger's eye
> 
> I've never been with anyone  
> In the way I've been with you  
> But if love is not for fun,  
> Then it's doomed, 'cause
> 
> Water races,  
> Water races down the waterfall,  
> The water races,  
> Water races down the waterfall
> 
> And I don't want to change you  
> I don't want to change you,  
> I don't want to change your mind  
> I just came across a manger  
> Where there is no danger  
> Where love has eyes and is not blind"


	9. Frilly Orlesian Cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition spends the night at the manor of Duke Gaspard the night before the Halamshiral ball. 
> 
> Ma'alin discovers Solas' love for frilly little cakes and uses it against him in a very NSFW kinda way.

Ma’alin

 

The Inquisition had been preparing for the events to take place at the Halamshiral ball and the time was finally upon them. Skyhold had been abuzz with frantic energy as Josie double and triple checked costumes, wrote out party introductions for announcement at the ball, reviewed table manners and the art of small talk, reviewed which dances were in vogue, and who they should seek out as well as who they should avoid. Ma’alin noted that Varric and Bull had gone missing, hiding in their cups in the tavern, in hopes of missing this trip. 

She had thought long and hard about who she should take with her to the ball. Her choice of companions really reflected how she would choose to play, or not play, their Game in Halamshiral. Josie had cautioned her. Be conservative, ladylike, charming but evasive, friendly but mysterious. Don’t answer anything unless it’s with another question. As an elf it was imperative that she seek court favor with abandon in order to dispel any prejudices the nobles already held of her. Leliana disagreed adamantly. 

“The nobles of Orlais will look at her and see a servant, a puppet of the Inquisition. The men will see her as a concubine...an expensive concubine at best.” Leliana mused. Josie shot her a disapproving look. 

Ma’alin nodded her head. “She is right, Josie. I could wear a collar up to my chin, cover every inch of myself in burlap for modesty’s sake...but one look at my ears and my valasslin and they will make the same assumption. The Inquisition is led by a wanton savage with no purpose but to be used and discarded. It will not matter what I say or how nicely I say it. I’ll play their game, but I’m doing it my way.”

Leliana nodded. “In that revealing gown they will assume many things about her. They will underestimate her. We can use this to our advantage.” 

Josie pondered for a long moment before looking to Ma’alin. “Can you do this? Are you sure?”

Ma’alin smiled. “I can take whatever they dish out. I’ve had two of the best teachers in the Game.” Josie and Leliana shared a look and smiled. They were going to turn Orlais on it’s ear.  
Josie pulled out her pad and pen. “Inquisitor, who will you be taking with you? May I suggest Lady Vivienne. She is well-versed in Orlesian politics. And of course, Cassandra. She is a legend there. And perhaps....hmmm....perhaps ah...? 

Ma’alin smiled. Josie was not going to like this. “Dorian. Varric. Solas.” Josie dropped her pen. 

“A Tevinter mage, a conscripted captive, and an apostate....” The look of horror was priceless. 

“Indeed. Have everyone ready. We leave for the Duke’s manor after lunch.” 

Ma’alin stepped away with a smile on her face leaving Leliana to console Josie. 

__________

The Inquisitor and her party traveled to the summer manor house of Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons by carriage. These were not the grand carriages that would be used for tomorrow night’s ball. Those would be provided by Vivienne. These belonged to Duke Gaspard. They were large, luxurious, painted black with red silk upholstered cushions, crystal lanterns, and discreet serving trays that held delectable sweet desserts for it’s passengers. 

Varric, Solas, Dorian and Ma’alin shared a carriage together. Between the mages bickering, Varric’s witty sarcasm, and Dorian’s sudden need to drown himself in a bottle of wine to escape Solas’ glares it was an eventful ride. 

One thing she did learn was that Solas was obsessed with the frilly little Orlesian cakes provided for them. She couldn’t stop a grin that spread across her face as he held a dainty pink frosted cake sprinkled with cracked sugar in his long fingers, gently unwrapped the golden tissue so that it did not disturb the sculpted icing, then closed his eyes and held it to his nose to inhale the sweet smell of buttercream. All this ritual was abruptly ended as he bit into it like a starving savage. She had to suppress a giggle when he realized what he had done and glanced around nervously to see if anyone had noticed his little moment of hedonism. She quickly averted her eyes and smiled out the window, pretending not to notice. He quickly devoured another. She would need to remember this for later. 

The Duke’s manor lay just South of Lydes, about an hour from Halamshiral, in a manicured clearing just outside a large forest. The manor was grey marble, white pillars, gold filigree, and it dwarfed the landscape that surrounded it. If this was his summer home she feared to see his palace. Her heart turned sour as she reminded herself that it had been built on the backs of her people that had been broken in order to build these ostentatious homes for the nobles of Orlais. The Duke was a political ally, not a friend, and she did not trust him any further than she could throw him. 

They were greeted with all the pomp and circumstance that the Duke had to offer. They were provided with the best accommodations, refreshments, personal servants, and personal sitting rooms. Once the rooms had been settled, and the bags unpacked, they all began to gather in the sitting room to relax from the long ride. 

Josie was overseeing the pressing of ball attire, Leliana spoke with some of the servants in the shadowed corner, and Cullen stood at the desk with a layout of Halamshiral castle to study the locations of possible targets should the need arrive. Dorian was kicked back in a large cushy chair with a new book he’d lifted from the Duke’s library. Varric and Solas stood at the buffet table discussing the fare before them. Solas had a long frown on his face as he wiped at his lips with a lace napkin.

“...I told you not to taste that, Chuckles! Why would you put anything in your mouth that tastes of Despair? Go grab one of your girly cakes to wash the funk off your tongue.” 

Ma’alin wove her way between them, staying abreast of the latest developments. Everything was in high gear in anticipation for tomorrow night and her nerves were on edge but she shouldered it well. Everyone was merry and even Solas appeared to be enjoying himself. Everyone, except Cullen. She hadn’t spoken to him since the dancing lessons and he’d been avoiding her ever since. No time like the present. 

Ma’alin walked over to the desk where he pretended to be too busy to acknowledge her. She stepped around the desk, placed herself directly infront of him, hopped up and planted her rear end on his map. He could not avoid her now.

He was not happy. He glared at her. “Inquisitor, we do not have time for childish games. If you don’t mind...” he reached out to shoo her from her spot. 

“I do mind. I mind that my Commander is avoiding me. I mind that my friend feels he cannot talk to me. We are friends, aren’t we? I thought we were.” 

Cullen looked away. He glanced back briefly, his eyes burning holes in her, looked away again and then his features softened and his shoulders slumped. “I am sorry...yes, yes we are  
‘friends.’ Forgive me, I have been unkind. It’s just that when I see...when you...Him...I...Maker’s breath, this is ridiculous!” His frustration was growing and his cheeks were flushed. 

“Cullen, you and I come from different worlds. In time, you would come to resent our differences of faith, of beliefs, of ideas of what should and should not be. You would resent me.” Cullen sighed and looked at her with a pleading expression. “I could never do that.”

Ma’alin felt a knife twist in her heart. “You deserve happiness, Cullen. I can’t give that to you in any other way than as your friend. Will you allow me to be that? I wish you would.”

Cullen stared at the floor for a long moment before he finally met her gaze. “Yes, I can do that. But no more sitting on my papers...it’s distracting! Plus you leave little wrinkles in the paper.” He shooed her off with an exasperated brotherly tone. 

She smiled and jumped off the table to stand by his side. “So, show me the key places I need to know for tomorrow.” Cullen smiled and began explaining the layout of the palace. 

__________

Solas

 

Solas had lost sight of Ma’alin after dinner. The little minx had taunted him, played with him throughout the meal. She sat at the far end, to the left of the Duke, while Solas was near the opposite end next to Varric. The Duke, the ass, was intoxicated and leaning in too closely to Ma’alin throughout the meal. She played the coquette and shooed his hands away without directly rebuffing him. Leliana, Vivienne, and Josie had done well in instructing her how to play the Game. 

One thing in particular intrigued him. Rather than play the role of the proper lady, which she was not, she had embraced the role of exotic elven temptress and was turning it into a role of power rather than one of submission. It was whispered that Gaspard, the Duke of Chalons, had a preference for elven servants despite his public professions of disdain for the race. Ma’alin was playing her role well because she had him eating out of her hands. 

Every now and again she would glance to Solas and look at him in a way that sent ripples of warmth through his stomach. She was devouring him with her eyes until the Duke pulled her attention away. She had worn her hair loose this evening and wore a pale grey green silk gown that matched her eyes and hugged her curves. The damned woman was not wearing undergarments and he could tell all the way from here. The way the Duke kept eyeing her low neckline and the shape of her breasts, that fact had not escaped him as well. 

Dorian leaned across the table to whisper, “Stare any longer and he might cut your ears off for the sheer impudence. And then where we would be? One elf short and the spot for magnificent human mage is already taken in this party.” Solas shot him a cold glare. “It’s just part of the game, Solas. He’ll lust after her for a while, bed some palace servant, and all will be well. He can’t touch her as long as she’s ours.” 

Dorian was right. She was safe to play the role because the Inquisition protected her. Orlais would be sadly mistaken to write her off and believe she was what she presented. No one was who they said they were in Orlais. Tomorrow night she would burn them down using their own fire. 

__________

After dinner Solas walked alone to his room. He hesitated outside her door, thought of knocking, then decided against it. There were too many eyes and ears here. 

He opened the heavily gilded door to his room and found her there, perched upon the desk opposite the door, one knee drawn up to her chest revealing a long spanse of bare leg, and eyeing him like a cat about to pounce on an unsuspecting bird. His brow quirked as he shut the door behind him. 

“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Inquisitor?” He clasped his hands low behind his back and casually strode to her, stopping short of her reach. 

Her mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I heard you have an insatiable desire for frilly little cakes.” His brow furrowed as he tried to repress a smile. 

“I’m afraid you have been misinformed, Inquisitor. I care for no such thing.” He stepped closer to her. 

“Really? Is that so? Well, that’s a shame since I made sure to steal a few for you.” She pulled a delicate little yellow cake with cracked sugar from behind her and held it to her lips, inhaling the scent of the pastry. 

“But, since you don’t want it...." Her smile turned wicked. She flicked her tongue against the intricate icing, closed her eyes, and purred. Solas had to concede, she knew his buttons. He bit his lip and raised his chin in defiance. It was a battle of wills she was playing, seeing how far she could tempt him. He was better at this than her. He could control the fire starting to burn within him. Years and years of practice. 

“Since you seem to be enjoying that so well, allow me to...” he was about to step away when she interrupted him. 

“Solas...” her voice was sweet and husky. He turned to face her and nearly growled. She’d dipped her finger in the sweet frosting and was trailing it down her slender neck. His body was beginning to ache but he stood resolute. 

“It’s a shame, really. I had it on good authority that these were your favorite.” She licked her finger, dipped it in the icing and trailed her finger from her collar bone and down between the valley of her breasts. 

To the void with her! Solas’ resolve crumbled and was set ablaze like a pyre as he closed the gap between them and pressed his mouth against her sweet skin. 

She gasped and instantly arched her back to give him access to the hollows of her neck. He licked, sucked, and bit at the line of sugary sweetness that trailed down her flesh. His hands cupped her ass, fingers kneading into the soft flesh, and pulled her hips closer to him. She spread her legs open as he pushed against her. Her moans spilled out from her lips as he licked his way down to her chest. She braced herself against the desk with her free hand while the other still held that cursed pastry. The warmth within him had turned to a raging inferno and he wanted to devour her. 

Solas lifted her from the table and braced her against his hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on as he carried her to the ornate bed, never removing his mouth from her flesh. They fell together onto the silken sheets and Solas pushed her left knee up as he guided her further onto the bed and laid between her thighs. 

She was beginning to writhe beneath him as he grasped the neckline of her gown and pulled it down to expose her small rounded breasts. His mouth found her nipple and he sucked it between his teeth. 

“Oh!” She nearly came off the bed. He pushed her back down into the mattress, one hand cupping the breast between his lips and the other pressing her knee up against his side bringing her hips closer to his. He rolled his hips against her as he sucked hard on her nipple, pressing the length of his member between her thighs. She threw back her head and moaned loudly. 

Solas smiled as he released her breast and looked up at her. “Sssh, vhenan. Someone might hear you.” She grasped at his shirt and pulled him up the length of her body until she could press her lips against his. Her tongue was sweet and hot and swirled against his insistently. Solas could feel his eyes roll back in his head at the taste of her and the heat. 

“Solas...” He opened his eyes and when he looked at her she looked positively ravenous. Then that mischievous smile returned. The fire within him leaped and twisted. He leaned in to kiss her again and was stopped. 

She had smeared the sweet frosting against his lips. He pulled back, slightly taken aback. A warm laughter erupted from her lips as she giggled at the line of frosting across his mouth. He could not help but smile. Her laughter was contagious and for once someone was laughing at his dignified reserve without mocking him. 

“Really, vhenan? Is this the game you want to play?” She didn’t answer. She grabbed his head and brought him down to her lips in a fierce kiss. Her tongue lathed against his skin and licked all the sweetness away. Everything within him was turning twisty and heated and aching to be released. 

Instinctfully, his hand reached down between them to the heat between her thighs. His long fingers cupped her curve and the heat was radiating from her bare skin against his flesh. He groaned into her mouth. “We really need to talk about your lack of smallclothes...”

She giggled. “Are you going to insist upon me wearing them like a proper shem?” One finger slid within the slit of her curve and she gasped. 

“No, I’m going to insist that you never wear them ever again.” She let out a sound that was part moan and part laugh. The liquid heat that slicked over his finger was divine torture. He wanted to kiss her there, taste it upon his lips, and feel her writhe beneath his touch. He gathered his wits. This was not something they had discussed. Solas withdrew his finger and felt her body curve up into him, seeking more of his touch. 

“Ma’alin, open your eyes. Look at me.” Her eyes were dilated with desire when her gaze met his. “Tell me, vhenan, is this your first time?” Her cheeks flushed red and she licked her lips nervously. “Ma’alin, do not be shy.” He lowered his face to hers, kissed her nose, and looked into her eyes. She was hesitating. He stroked her hair away from her face. 

“Ma’alin, I am going to make love to you tonight. I would like to know if this is your first time so that I do not hurt you.” Her eyes were full of emotion as she softly nodded. “I’ve never gone this far with anyone before, Solas.” He nodded acceptingly.

“Vhenan, do you want me to make love to you?” he asked her quietly. 

Her eyes became hungry. “Gods, yes.” They both smiled as the awkward moment passed. Solas caressed her face, pressed his lips gently against hers and kissed her. It started softly, gently, a promise between lovers. One roll of her hips against his and it became molten. His tongue pressed against hers insistently, looking for further entry. He growled when it was no longer enough and pushed himself up to his knees between her thighs. Grasping her hand he pulled her to sit up before him. One tug at her dress and she threw her arms above her head so he could slip it from her skin. The silk fell away revealing beautiful creamy skin. Solas grabbed his shirt by the hem and pulled it off deftly. Her fingers were tugging at the laces of his breeches before his shirt hit the floor. She had freed the laces and hesitated. Solas pulled his breeches from his hips, down his thighs and discarded them on the floor. 

When he turned back to face her she was staring at his member. A smirk played upon his mouth as he looked at her. She reached out to touch him, running her cool fingers down the length of him. “There were things the other girl’s whispered about that they said pleased their men.” Solas stopped her. 

“Another night, vhenan. Tonight it’s all about you.” He laid her gently back upon the bed and laid upon her, bracing his weight upon one arm as his free hand explored her body. There was nothing between them now and her heat was pressing against him, and he could already feel her slick arousal against his skin. Her thighs embraced his hips and pulled him closer. 

He kissed her cheeks, her neck, her ears, his hand cupping her breast before sliding down her body to cup against her curve again. He slid his finger into the heat and gently caressed her clit. She moaned against his lips and arched into him. He pressed harder, swirling his finger in circles against her. Her breaths were becoming shallower. He had become so tight, so aching, that he was beginning to feel physical pain. 

It had been so long, so very long since he had felt like this. He had been with many different types of women, cared for some of them even, but he had never wanted to be with a woman the way he wanted to be with her. He could feel her in the very depths of his soul where light did not shine. The fact that she wanted him as well was making him come undone. 

Ma’alin writhed against his touch, her hips rolling against his finger. Her breaths were becoming ragged and her muscles were tightening beneath him. She moaned in exasperation as he withdrew his hand from between them. He looked down upon her face and their eyes met. A slight nod of her head and he reached down and grasped his member, softly stroked it against her heat. Her eyes closed instinctively at the feeling of heat upon heat. 

“Vhenan, open your eyes. Look at me.” She opened her eyes, wrapped her hands around his neck and licked her lips. Solas gently pressed the tip of himself into her folds. She bit her lip and softly moaned. She was so deliciously hot and he could feel her pulsing around him. He pushed a bit further, seeking entrance into her. She squirmed slightly, adjusting to the new sensation. He could feel her body responding to him, expanding around him. He went further and stopped. She tensed slightly then relaxed. Further again. Tense and relax. He was getting close to the threshold. He had to gather his full will to contain himself and hold back. He pressed further in until she sheathed him completely. She moaned and held onto him tightly as the tightness began to burn but it quickly began to subside. He was being so gentle that any pain should be minimal if any existed at all. 

He kissed her lips softly, felt the light sheen of sweat on her brow, and her breasts pressed against his chest. Gently he rocked inside her eliciting a gasp against his lips. He rocked again. There was no indication she felt any pain. He withdrew slowly, just ever so slightly, and pressed back within her heat. Her neck arched back against his lips. They fit together so perfectly that it felt effortless. 

Solas locked his lips against the flesh of her neck, pressed her knee up against his side and drove further into her. A deep moan escaped her lips as her fingers dig into his shoulders. He started slowly, letting her body adust to him, nipping at her skin. Her breaths were mingled with moans and gasps as he withdrew and then plunged back within her. She was pulsating around him, making him mad with desire. He withdrew further, thrusted deep, and began to thrust in time with her heart beat. As her pulse accelerated so too did his thrusting. Her thready breaths were turning into heated gasps. His face was buried in her neck as her body arched up against him. Everything within him was screaming for release, to take her and claim her as his own. His breaths were becoming ragged and he could hear his own panting against her neck. 

Ma’alin moaned and reached her arms above her head to grasp at the sheets. Solas wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him as his pace became faster, his thrust drove deeper, and their hearts beat out a cadence that was threatening to send them spiraling. 

His voice was husky, deep, and laden with desire. “Come to me, vhenan."

A cry escaped her lips as she began to explode into release. He quickly grabbed her face and huskily whispered to her, “Look at me, Ma’alin!” She obeyed and their eyes locked. Waves of pleasure began to rock her body and engulf him as he thrust within her. One more thrust deep within her and his body began that sweet release that sent shivers down his spine and began to uncoil the tension that had built deep within his core. Her voice called out his name, her lips gasping against his own ragged breaths, as they rode out the intense waves of pleasure that were swallowing them both and dragging them down. 

Her body began to melt into the sheets beneath him, all tension released. Her eyes were hooded beneath thick lashes as she looked up at him and moaned in pleasure. Solas gently thrusted once more to stir her depths. Her nails dug into the sheets. His body was hot and tingly, every nerve alive and thrumming, and his eyes devoured her loving face. She reached up to caress his face and blinked slowly, a small smile curving across her face. 

Solas pressed his forehead to hers and breathed in her sweet breath. “Is it selfish to say that I never want you to come for another man? It would tear me apart to think of it. But I am a selfish man." She ran her fingers down his chest and pursed her lips. “No more selfish than I. But I’m greedy. I want you to make love to me forever." 

Solas smiled, warmth spreading throughout his chest. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”  
She smiled lazily up at him. “Ar lath ma, vhenan’ara.”

Solas traced circles around her breast with his long fingers, never wanting the moment to end. 

“So you don’t like those frilly little cakes, huh? Could have fooled me...” Her lips curved into that mischievous smile again. 

Solas smiled. “I might have eaten the cheese that tastes of Despair if you had rubbed that on your body. But your breasts are too beautiful and tempting already. They are not in need of such adornments.”

She giggled low in her throat. “Sweet talker.” Her hips moved and he growled. 

“Careful, vhenan. You do that again and you’re going to get more than you bargained for.” She smiled and moved her hips again. He had not yet gone soft from the first time and now she was stirring him to complete hardness once more. 

“That’s it! You wild thing!” He laughed as he grasped her hips, dragging her against him, and thrust into her. She gasped in surprise. His expression was coy as he looked into her eyes. 

“I may not be able to make love to you forever, but I can easily manage the rest of the night. I hope you are not tired, vhenan. You won’t be sleeping much tonight.” He reached for the pastry she had dropped on the covers, swiped a large serving of the icing away with his fingers and smeared it from her lips to her breasts. She squealed as he began nipping it from her lips and then her body, timing his tongue in rhythm with his thrusts. 

Moans began to rise from her chest. “Dread wolf take you....ungh...Solas....oh gods!”

His lips curled back into a hungry snarl against her skin. The night was still young and he vowed he would not quit until she was truly undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! Real life got in the way and writing Solas sexy time is distracting as hell! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!


	10. She will not be tamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Halamshiral has arrived. The Inquisition prepares for the Game and embarks for the ball. Tonight was the night. 
> 
> Warning: references made to unwelcome flirting and lewd advances. Does not go further than an unwanted kiss. Nothing violent or explicit.
> 
>  **Edit** \- ellieraptor of tumblr did an AMAZING commission piece of Ma'alin and Solas at the Halamshiral ball. Words can't express how beautiful this is and what an amazing job she did in capturing their dynamic. She takes commissions and I highly, HIGHLY recommend her. 
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Cyran9/media/Fanfic/the-fox_amp_the_wolf-link.jpg.html)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> See the piece here [on my tumblr](http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/115393654649/maalin-and-solas-my-solavellan-otp-from-my-fic)

Tonight was the night. 

Ma’alin took a deep breath, closed her eyes, thinking of him. Her fingers traced the paths his lips had caressed against her skin and she felt a shiver as she remembered how his lips on her flesh felt, how his kiss tasted, what it felt like to have him within her. 

In her teens she had flirted and dallied with a handsome rogue from her clan, Lanvel, but that had been abruptly ended when her Keeper intervened and she was promised to Thalenn. She and Lanvel had kissed and touched and explored but they were too closely watched to escape and do more without others intervening. His family would have strongly objected against her and her Keeper kept a close watch because of her latent magical powers. It was just as well, she thought, she had not been in love with him. Then there was Thalenn, her betrothed…not a pleasant thought. He had been fumbling, harsh, with prying hands that left bruises, and cold kisses that she had to endure as was her “duty,” her Keeper instructed. When she had pushed him away he had slapped her. Her rejection of him, her refusal to follow the traditional gods, and her refusal to lay down her bow to cultivate her magic had prompted the events that sent her to the conclave. She was told then that she should be penitent and grateful for the punishment. 

She was grateful, but not for the reasons her Keeper had intended. Meeting Solas had changed everything. Now he had changed her. 

Last night he held her, caressed her, covered her in kisses, touched every part of her as he whispered her name against her skin, and called her his own. He had made her his, gently at first and then passionately, over and over. She smiled and buried her face in her hands. 

And over…Oh Dread Wolf take him, and over!

He left her bed this morning with a kiss on his lips and a smile on his face. She should feel exhausted but she was too happy to feel tired. She had gotten some rest and it would have to be enough. She had a daunting night ahead of her. 

Leliana and Josie helped her to get ready. Josie laying out her clothes, calling the stylist to curl her hair and paint her face. Leliana briefed her on the current politics in Orlais as she got ready. When she had brought her to speed Ma’alin inquired about the empress’ views on elves. She wanted to know the effects her support might have upon her people. 

“I’ve heard dark whispers of Celene and her elven lover, Briala. I would have said that Celene would be our best ally but now I think we should consider other options. The elven servants say she burned the elven slums in Halamshiral when they protested the murder of one of their own. No survivors. I suspect her “generosities” to the elves of Orlais are due to the influence of her lover as opposed to her good will.”

Ma’alin shuddered and felt ill. “Everyone? Even the children?” Leliana nodded. “What of Gaspard?”  
Leliana pulled her hood back from her head and paced the plush carpet. “Gaspard has no love for the elves, but he’s never been known to treat them any more harshly than any other servant. His servants are treated well and given enough to care for their families.”

It hurt to hear her people called servants. It hurt to know that was the best they could expect from the rulers of Orlais. “What of Briala?”

Leliana explained to her that Briala was the true power where it concerned the matters dealing with the elves. She had fought for their inclusion in the universities, had lobbied for elven merchants to do business with the high merchants of Val Royeaux, and the example set by the court had “inspired” the nobles to treat their servants better, some even having the benefit of being lesser household advisers to their masters. 

“In short, Celene is a master game player. She does what she thinks a ruler of Orlais should do with little regard for who gets in her way and even less for those who make her look weak. Elves and mages are hurdles to be overcome. Gaspard is military man. He’s very set in his ways and his beliefs of where the elves stand in his kingdom. He’s a traditionalist which bodes neither ill or beneficial for the elves or the mages. Briala is the wild card. She wants the best for your people and for Orlais. But she is no noble and to place her on the throne is certain to cause upheaval.”

Josie frowned. “ I detest this chatter. We don’t know what will happen tonight. Our best bet is to garner for mutual peace and focus upon Corypheus!” Leliana stood behind her, tapped the tip of her ears and mouthed “Briala”. Ma’alin nodded. She had a lot to consider. 

The stylist curled her hair, painted her lips, and powdered her face. When she looked in the mirror Ma’alin could barely see herself. Her valasslin was gone. She looked like an Orlesian with long pointed ears. 

“No. No, no. I will not pretend to be one of them. Fix this, please.” Josie swooped in to save her. “Perhaps we might play upon the beauty of your marks and disregard wearing a mask?” She instructed the stylist to use golden paint and trace out the lines of the valasslin that graced the Inquisitor’s cheeks and paid homage to the goddess Mythal. When she was done they shone like polished gold in the candlelight. Ma’alin took a deep breath. She looked more like herself. 

Josie and Leliana helped her dress. Her gown was black silk, shimmering blue and green in the light when she moved, and trimmed in soft black leather. The neckline was cut open in a deep V that dipped down below her navel. The back was cut in a matching V to her lower back. Two thin soft leather belts buckled at her waist to hold the risqué gown in place. Her gown was whisper light and flowing with two daring slits that flared open in the front over her thighs when she walked, flashing skin up to her hips. The shape of the slitted fabric echoed the shape of Solas’ tunic when the sides and back flared behind her. She covered the vast expanse of exposed skin by wearing sheer coal black thigh high stockings and high heeled leather boots that sat just above her knee. She donned exquisite black leather gloves that covered her up to the mid of her upper arms. Leliana stood behind her with a handful of cascading golden chains dotted with gems of smoky quartz, white and cobalt blue sapphires. She reached around Ma’alin’s neck, clasping it so the great necklace closed on the side of her neck, laying the bulk of the stones along the left side of her collarbone, tumbling down low between her breasts, and draping the chains over her right breast. The glittering chains cascaded and flowed up over her right shoulder and spilled across her right shoulder blade like an intricate piece of armor. It bathed her nakedness in jewels and riches that showed the nobles of Orlais just how much wealth the Inquisition was capable of amassing. 

Josie had the stylist curl her hair in great waves and combed them back to allow her face to be exposed and allow the lengths to trail down her back. Her loose curls were adorned with tiny golden wires shaped into winding vines, touches of gold dipped leaves, and metallic golden ribbons mixed with ivory ribbon that matched her locks. The ribbons were tied within the lengths of her curls and the trailing ends danced and floated about as she moved. Her eyes had been lined with kohl and smudged with a jet black powder that brought out the paleness of her eyes; her lips were painted a soft fleshy pink, her cheeks blushed in peachy pink and a dusting of gold to mirror the golden lines of her valasslin. She looked like herself only….more. 

Josie sighed her approval. “You look…you look like an elven goddess!” Leliana smiled her approval. “They won’t know what hit them. The shock alone will surely make someone pass out.” Ma’alin smiled. Leliana’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “I’m sure Solas will approve.” She and Josie shared a knowing look. 

Ma’alin felt her ears turn red with heat. “Does everyone know?”

Leliana sat on the table edge and smiled like a predator. “Anyone who had a room in this wing knows.” Josie gasped, “Leliana! I apologize, Inquisitor, it really wasn’t THAT noticeable. I mean…” Leliana smiled. “What she means is there are some on the second floor who may not have heard. Wasn’t Cullen’s room upstairs? We should ask him if he heard anything…unusual.” 

Ma’alin laughed, “Wicked! Both of you!” They shared a laugh. Josie softened. “He’s good for you.” Leliana’s gaze hardened. “Yes, but don’t let him be a distraction. We have a nation to save.” Ma’alin nodded. She was ready. 

_____________________________

Duke Bastien’s carriages and livery awaited them outside the doors of Duke Gaspard’s manor. They were snow white with sapphire blue silk curtains and cushions, golden lanterns, and gold filigree upon every painted space. The horses were snow white with blue bridles and golden buckles. The footmen wore sapphire blue uniforms with gold trim. Vivienne had been right. There was nothing grander than the carriages loaned to them by the Duke, her lover. 

Leliana, Josie, and Ma’alin were escorted to the carriages where Cullen, Dorian, Varric, and Solas awaited them. The ladies and gentlemen of her party wore snow white formal coats in military style, bedecked in silver trim and buttons, with black leather belts, pants, gloves, and boots. The finishing touch was a sapphire blue silk sash that draped across their back and chest and tied at the hip. The men looked dashing and the women looked beautifully strong. 

Ma’alin’s eyes searched for Solas in the group. His eyes met hers and her heart skipped a beat. He was so dashing, so handsome in his attire. The coat had been custom tailored to his tall, lean body and the cut of the collar showcased his thin, elegant neck and jaw line. 

She glided down the stairs to greet him. He stood motionless, his hands clasped low behind his back, watching her come towards him. 

Varric turned to follow Solas’ gaze. “Helllloooooo, Vixen….”  
Cullen turned to look and muttered, “Maker….”  
Dorian’s eyes flared wide and he whistled. “Solas, my good man, I will duel you for her hand this instant. It will save you the embarrassment later of losing her to a stuffy Orlesian.”

A smile played at the corner of Solas’ lips. “You could not handle her. Neither could they. She will not be tamed.” Solas stepped up the stairs to meet her as Dorian mumbled to Varric, “….as we all well know…”

Solas took her hand in his. “My lady Lavellan.” He bowed low and kissed the back of her gloved hand. His eyes darted up to meet hers and he smiled. She felt her cheeks flush. 

Solas held her hand in a genteel manner, placing his other hand against the small of her back and leading her to the carriages. He leaned into her ear and whispered. 

“You are ravishing, vhenan. Tonight the gods will be jealous of you.” She felt her cheeks flush.  
“Gaspard awaits you in the carriage. Be on your guard with him. Remember, tonight is about you. This is your legacy.” He held her hand and helped her step into the carriage. She caught one last glimpse of him before Gaspard closed the curtains. 

He had looked hungry, like a wolf about to devour a rabbit. 

___________________

Solas and Leliana had counseled her to beware of Gaspard. Once they were alone in the carriage he wasted no time making his proposition. 

He would give her wealth, jewels, land, titles, and more. He would make the Inquisition a “household name,” expand the rights of “her people,” and provide her with an army of mounted Chevaliers to reinforce her numbers. All he asked was that she support him for Emperor of Orlais. 

And become his secret, full-time mistress.

She had demured, said she could not possibly be worthy of such an honor, knowing he would up his offer.  
“A palace of your own. Elite members invited to your salons. A generous income and servants of your own. All for you.” He leaned into her, crowding her personal space and running his fingers along the bare skin of her arm. 

She felt disgusted. She swallowed the irritation, smiled and removed his hand from her arm, dropping it in his lap. “You are too generous, your Grace. And I have to wonder, would these servants you promise me be elves as well?” Her eyes met his and a flash of anger danced across his gaze. 

“You’re a tease, Inquisitor. I warn you, I do not deal well with rejection.” The sound of a horn signaled the carriage pulling into the gates of Halamshiral. 

Ma’alin needed this man to be an ally. She swallowed the desire to slap him and instead ran her gloved fingers down his cheek. 

“My dear Duke, I desire your good graces. Let me consider your proposition. I will have your answer by the end of the night.”

Gaspard kissed her bare shoulder. “My dear, my honor demands I obey your wishes.” She had to suppress a shudder from the unwanted touch. Gaspard’s hand came to her chin and lifted her face to meet his. His gaze was threatening. 

“Do not make me wait long, Inquisitor. I am not a patient man. And I always get what I want.”

She smiled and laughed and pulled his hand from her face. “Duke, I assure you, I am just as anxious as you to get this over with so I can answer you. Please, give a lady time to consider…”  
Gaspard grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her to him, crushing his lips against hers. He tried to force entry to her mouth but she held him off, pushing against him. She grabbed his ear and yanked hard. Gaspard yelped and pulled back abruptly. Ma’alin instinctively slapped him across the cheek. The slap echoed off the walls of the carriage and his cheek flushed deep red. Gaspard looked at her with daggers in his eyes. She held her breath. 

“You are a knife-eared savage, not a lady. You’d do best not to forget that" he growled through clenched teeth. 

“And you’re an ass who needs this savage in order to stake your weak claim on a throne that you could not hold. You’d do best not to forget that.” Ma'alin's voice was hard and the anger inside her made her more brave than she felt. 

Gaspard glared at her. Then he erupted in a loud guffaw. “You are right. Well, mostly right, but we won’t argue over details. You will support me and you will give me your answer before the night is through.” Gaspard pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. 

“Fix your lips. We don’t want them whispering that you’ve sucked the dick of a Duke to get what you want. That would not be lady like, yes?” 

Ma’alin imagined dragging Gaspard back to her clan and dressing him in Fen’harel’s teeth before making him march back to Val Royeaux. She repainted her lips and forced a smile. “As you say, your Grace.” 

The carriage came to a halt and her door was opened. Solas stood outside the door with his hand extended to help her down from the carriage. She tried hard to hide her frustration and smiled at him. Ever observant, Solas took one look at her and his gaze shot over her shoulder to the Duke inside. His brow furrowed and anger flashed in his eyes. She squeezed his hand as her feet touched the ground. He did not respond. His feet were rooted to the ground and he was glaring hard at Duke Gaspard. Ma’alin tugged on his hand. He reluctantly turned to look at her. 

“Are the others ready?” She tugged again. He finally moved, placed one hand on her lower back and led her towards the marble stairs that led to the upper garden area. 

Solas walked closely beside her, protectively rubbing his fingers along the bare skin of her back. She could feel the coolness of frost as his anger caused his mana to surge within him. “Are you hurt, vhenan?”

Her heart flooded with love for this man. If she said yes she truly believed he would turn around and immolate the Duke in the same way he had the mages who tortured his friend. Her pride was wounded, and the Duke was an ass, but she was no wilting flower. There were bigger things are stake than the fumblings of one pretentious noble pawing at one more elf. If she was effective she could hopefully put a stop to this for all the elves in the future. 

“I can handle men like him. And if he can’t take no for an answer I’ll just blast him so far into the fade that only his ancestors can find him.” 

Solas did not smile but her jest had removed the hard line from his mouth. They reached the dais of the garden where the rest of the party awaited them. 

“Escort me in?” She asked. Solas shook his head.  
“No. It would not benefit you to be seen cavorting with your apostate lover. An elven apostate lover at that.” Ma’alin turned to him, leaning into his lean frame, and ran her fingertips along his beautifully carved jaw. 

“You forget, I’m an elven apostate lover as well, am I not?” His gaze softened as he caressed her hair, the dangling ribbons curling about his fingers. 

“Yes, but two of those things belong only to us.” he said. Ma’alin smiled up at him. 

“Those things belong to you. You only. Wish me luck.”

Solas smiled at her. “Good luck. And vhenan…set them on fire.”

Ma’alin was to be escorted inside by Cullen followed by the rest of the Inquisition. Their presence was announced to the sounds of crystal horns and violins singing in an uplifting waltz that was the theme for the Empress of Orlais. The palace of Halamshiral was ten times larger and grander than the Duke’s and was bathed in golden lights against the dark blue night skies. There were people everywhere laughing, drinking, talking in groups. The cost of the dresses the ladies wore could have fed her clan for years. Ma’alin did not understand the desire for such excess when there so many who did without. It burned her in the pit of her stomach. 

As the group neared the last marble steps all eyes were upon them and all conversations fell silent. There were gasps of shock, amazement, and even disgust. She began to hear the whispered words of elf, savage, puppet, whore, disgusting, how dare she, that dress! and abomination. Her hand was resting upon Cullen’s arm as he escorted her and she had unknowingly began to tighten her grip. Cullen felt her tension and rested his other hand upon hers, patting reassuringly. His voice was low as he whispered to her, “They do not know you as we do. They will see. Give them time to let you win them over.”

Ma’alin smiled back at the faces that stared at her. She reminded herself that these people had little to no knowledge of the Dalish and little to no experience with an elf that possessed as much power and wealth as they did. She had never felt that she was less than a human and she would not start tonight. 

The Inquisition stood upon the steps of Halamshiral led by a Dalish elf. Celene thought she had a new elven toy to help her succor her elven uprisings. Gaspard thought he had a new whore to be at his beck and call and help him secure his crown. She turned her head to catch Solas’ gaze. He smirked back in answer and nodded his head. 

She knew she answered only to herself. And she knew who she belonged to. Nothing else here mattered. 

She entered the great hall to more gasps and exclamations. She held her head high, shoulders back and chin up. She belonged here. Her people built this magnificent palace. 

The Game of Orlais was now afoot and all eyes were on her. 

Ma’alin smiled. She felt like she was made for this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have posted photo references for the Inquisition's uniforms as well as Ma'alin's gown, a piece designed by Nickolas K, here on my [Tumblr.](http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/114889857214/photo-inspiration-page-photo-inspiration-for-new)
> 
> Copy and paste link if needed  
> (http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/114889857214/photo-inspiration-page-photo-inspiration-for-new)
> 
> Commission link  
> (http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/115393654649/maalin-and-solas-my-solavellan-otp-from-my-fic)
> 
>  
> 
> Fen'harel's teeth would have been fitting for Gaspard in this scenario.  
> "Dalish elves sometimes practice a savage game with human prisoners called "Fen'Harel's Teeth," wherein a prisoner's clothes are taken and their hands lashed together. The prisoner is given hard leather leggings with small nails driven into them to cause pain, and given a hundred-count head start before the clan gives chase."


	11. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball at Halamshiral and the Game. Ma'alin is playing by her own rules tonight. 
> 
> The political details have been glossed over, most of us have been there, done that. I'm here to fluff up the relationship between the Inquisitor and Solas. 
> 
> There is a swoony bit of Solavellan fluff inserted in here as well as a NSFW dosage of Solavellan smut. Definitely NSFW.
> 
>  **Edit** \- ellieraptor of tumblr did an AMAZING commission piece of Ma'alin and Solas at the Halamshiral ball. Words can't express how beautiful this is and what an amazing job she did in capturing their dynamic. She takes commissions and I highly, HIGHLY recommend her. 
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Cyran9/media/Fanfic/the-fox_amp_the_wolf-link.jpg.html)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> See the piece here [on my tumblr](http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/115393654649/maalin-and-solas-my-solavellan-otp-from-my-fic)

Ma’alin felt like a spectacle. This is what she wanted though. She had everyone’s attention.

The crowd had been shocked by her unconventional dress and appearance. There was an audible echo of gasps at the audacity of her not wearing a corset or twelve layers of skirts, of her choosing to go without smallclothes under such a thin, revealing fabric that hugged every shape of her form and flowed around her legs like dark water. Every vital bit was covered but the broad expanse of exposed skin hinted that she would be nude in an instant if a strong gust of wind blew through her.

After the formal introductions to the court, which she would need to address with Solas later…the Inquisitor’s elven manservant her ass, she worked her away around the room chatting up the nobles. At first she was met with cold shoulders, but a quick introduction to Empress Celene and to the right nobles (one of which Leliana said was half elven) and they began to receive her openly, enthusiastically and with genuine curiosity. Gaspard stood with Celene on the upper balcony, watching her eagerly. Celene was the cold fish she had expected and more. Cold and calculating. She and Gaspard deserved one another. She had briefly met Briala in passing. She was Celene’s creature but after speaking with her she had the feeling that she was the dark horse in this power struggle. 

Ma’alin drank champagne, danced with the nobles across the large polished marble floor, was admired and flattered and passed from once dance partner to another. Her lessons had come in handy but she couldn’t help but think this was a shallow, superficial, waste of time. Josie had reminded her over and over that they needed court favor and this was the surest way to gain it but it felt frivolous when compared to what was at stake. Leave it to shems to plan a massive party to settle a dispute upon which the whole kingdom hung in the balance. 

During her forays among the nobles Ma’alin gracefully endured open flirting, veiled hints of indecent proposals, varied comments about her “savage beauty,” requests for her presence at their next salon, and even one drunkenly slurred marriage proposal from some Marquis who smelled like he’d been swimming in Orlesian red wine. Male or female did not matter. And none cared enough to ask if she was involved with anyone else. 

Each time one of these gilded nobles whispered a proposal, an offer, a hint at their interest in spending some private time with her or inquired as to what the cost was to be with her….Ma’alin would smile, lightly touch the top of an expensive shirt cuff or lacy sleeve with her gloved fingers, lean in and whisper how their words flattered her deeply and how she simply would not be able to sleep tonight with just the mere thought of them on her mind. The nobles were predictable. They puffed out their chests in pride, beamed at their anticipated conquest, and asked her if she had any other prior engagements that had been offered to her and was there anything they could do to entice her to accept them instead? She wanted secrets. Gossip. Sordid tales. And the nobles spilled their secrets like their empress spilled elven blood; a little at first, then enough to create gushing rivers. 

Ma’alin continued to work the crowd. Dorian was in the courtyard entertaining some Orlesian dandies who were enraptured with his exotic good looks and dangerous sounding accent. He had them wrapped around his little finger. Varric had been scarce, remaining in the grand foyer to sign autographs for his readers and discussing tales of Hawke that grew bigger with each telling. Ma’alin found Solas in the small gallery, leaning casually against a statue of some naked filigreed deities, a glass of champagne in one hand and a frilly little cake which he had already licked the icing from in the other. She could not repress a smile as he looked at her hungrily. She came to stand beside him, watching the milling crowd in the ballroom. 

“How are you enjoying the ball, Inquisitor?” His speech was thick with a few glasses of champagne. The last bit of the frilly cake was devoured quickly and chased with another sip from the glass in his hand.

“Immensely. You seem to be enjoying yourself” she observed. He glanced at her from the side and smirked. 

“Yes. The servants keep my glass full. The rest assume I am a servant. I’ve heard many delicious tales, some so sordid they would make your ears flush that delicious color of pink they turn when…”

Ma’alin turned, smiled, and lifted his glass from his hand. She downed it slowly, knowing he was watching her swallow it down. When she finished she looked at him innocently. 

“You were saying, Solas?” His gaze was burning into her, his eyes caressing the nakedness of the expanse of bare skin between her breasts and down her stomach. 

“I forget” his voice had turned husky and he nearly growled it. It only lasted a moment before he cleared his throat and pointed to the dancing crowd through the archway. 

“You danced well. Tell me how the noble’s respond to your game?”

“Game?” She asked. He looked at her and his expression was coy. 

“Yes. Your game. The one where you play the exotic enchantress and tease them with the possibility of dominating you. I’ve watched you all evening. Everywhere you go you leave fires behind you. The Marquis looked positively smitten. Not that I can blame him. You’re a force to be reckoned with. I think I’d like to see you be dominated. It would be…fascinating.”

Ma’alin felt her face flush and her insides turn all fluttery. She leaned closer to him, whispering for only him to hear. “And who here do you think has the power to dominate me? You, Solas? You care to try your luck?”

Solas eyed her, his brow quirking, the side of his lip curving up in a predatory smile. “Ma nuvenin, vhenan.” 

Even in his relaxed pose Solas looked elegant and dignified, far above the events occurring here amongst these shems in their expensive clothing and jewels. She wanted to touch him, to taste the champagne upon his lips. But to do so would ruin the web she had spun here tonight. 

Ma’alin hummed her approval and turned her gaze back to the crowd. “I will consider it. Do you approve of this game I play or are you going to censure me for not playing their Game as instructed?”

Solas’ game face slid back into place. “You do not need my approval, nor do you seek it. In truth, I am impressed. I’ve heard whisperings from the servants of the “savage beauty” who is being promised half of Orlais for her “favors” and attention.”  
Ma’alin bit her lip. “Yes, I had anticipated a bit of that reaction. Had hoped for it, even. However, I am surprised, and more than a bit repulsed, at the amount of corruption I find here. So far this evening I have had two marriage proposals; seven offers for the role of official mistress accompanied with promises of lands, titles, or jewels; and four very indecent proposals, one of which was take place on Empress Celene’s own bed after Gaspard takes the throne.”

Solas snorted. He was not surprised. “Orlesians” he growled and waived for another drink. 

“You seem more comfortable at the grand Orlesian ball than I would have expected.” She watched him as he eyed those walking the room and pretending not to watch her converse with her manservant. 

Another sip of golden champagne and he smiled. His voice was husky and warm when he answered. “I could say the same of you, Inquisitor. Yet I have seen countless such displays in my journeys in the fade. The powerful have always been the same. Only the costumes change.” He took another sip. “I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events.” 

The words rolled off his tongue like honey and he lingered on the word “sex” as he glanced at her again, his eyes trailing the flesh he had tasted with abandon the night before. The silence began to stretch between them. Ma’alin’s insides were fluttering and she could feel heat begin to stir within her. They were both thinking of last night, she could feel it. 

“You are so beautiful” he murmured. 

His words should have made her melt. They should have sent goosebumps up and down her skin. Instead, they felt hollow. Everything here felt so superficial, no more than skin deep, so much so that it was robbing her from feeling the warmth in her lover’s words. She felt suddenly irritable. 

“You say that so often. I wonder what your basis of comparison is?” Solas turned to her, his features hardened. She spoke before he could interrupt her.

“What if you did not find me beautiful? What if you no longer found me pleasing to look at? Please tell me your words are more than the empty promises I’ve been made here tonight and that you love me for more than my face.” She had gone too far but after the indecencies she’d had to endure tonight she felt raw. 

Solas set down his glass and his hand grasped her forearm, pulling her away from the wall. 

“Come, Inquisitor.” He tugged firmly and she followed. His countenance said he would brook no refusal. He escorted her through the shadows to a side door that led out into the guest gardens. Solas pulled her through the door, placed his hand on the small of her back and led her down a darkened corridor that ended near the caprice fountain. Surrounded by trellis, vines, and the sounds of rushing water, no one noticed the couple as he grasped her shoulders and gently placed her back against the wall, leaning down to meet her gaze. 

Her breaths were fast and her heart was racing. He was so close to her that she could smell the champagne on his breath. His eyes were level with hers, his palms flat against the wall on each side of her, and he was searching her eyes with his. He took a deep breath and sighed.  
“You are going to forget everything that has been said to you tonight, Ma’alin. Do you hear me?” She hesitated and he leered at her. Finally, she shook her head. 

“Listen to me and remember this, vhenan.” His right hand came to caress his cheek, cupping it in his palm as he locked eyes with her. 

“Your beauty has no comparison, Ma’alin. But you mistake my words. When I say you are beautiful it is to the spirit within you that I speak. You have a rare and unique spirit, the likes of which I have never seen.” His thumb caressed her cheek and she began to feel a tightness in her throat as his words began to sink into her. 

“You are not the contours of your bone and flesh. You are not the curve of your lips when you smile. You are not the dark lashes that fan across your cheeks. You are not the body that I hold in my arms at night. And when I say that I desire you…,” his voice was warm and soothing as his eyes and fingers trailed from her face, down her neck, further down the bare flesh between her breasts to the end of the low cut V just below her navel, creating a fire within her with each inch. His eyes trailed back to meet her gaze again, fingers lightly trailing back up to her neck. His lips twitched as his palm rested on her bare skin against the center of her chest.

“…this is not what I desire. Do not mistake me, the curves of your face and your body are dear to me, lovely in my eyes, but when I look for you…” His hand lifted again to caress her face and his thumb stroked just under her eyelid. “…I look here.” She blinked and swallowed hard, feeling the coolness of his hand against her flushed face. She began to feel a slight tremble in her finger tips as her hands pressed against the wall behind her. A warm smile began to spread across Solas’ face and he leaned further into her. 

“You are intoxicating, vhenan. You are so strong and yet so gentle; a Herald who guides her followers with humility and courage; an Inquisitor who has Orlais eating from the palms of her hands. I look in your eyes and I see the woman who can render me and bring me to my knees with a word, with a look, or with a kiss. I see an indomitable spirit within you and it calls to me in ways that stirs deep awakenings within me until my heart aches for you, longing to be in your presence. All this I see when you look at me as you are doing now. So honest, so earnest, no falseness or fear in your eyes. This is what I see when I see your beauty. This is what I desire when I touch you, crave you, make love to you. No one else has ever compared to you, vhenan. You may question many things, but never doubt this.”

Ma’alin had no words. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears and her throat was too swollen with emotion to speak. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to his, tasting the sweetness of the icing on his lips and the warm taste of champagne on his tongue. Solas’ arms wrapped around her, cradling her against his chest as she clung to him. Her head was swimming with his words and her heart was aching with devotion for him. She said a silent prayer to the Dread Wolf in thanks for the man who held her now.

When Solas pulled away from the kiss she could hear the bells from chiming in the garden that marked her extended absence from the ballroom. 

“You are summoned” he whispered against her lips. “Now go, set Orlais on fire, vhenan.”

She walked into the ballroom feeling like a goddess on fire. 

__________

The night stretched on and on. The Inquisition had split apart and searched Celene’s castle from top to bottom. All of Halamshiral’s dirty little secrets had come to light and no one was left without stain. Duchess Florianne had tried to sway Ma’alin with sweetened words and promises of power should Gaspard come to power. Briala had helped uncover blackmail against Gaspard. Gaspard had insinuated Briala and Celene. Celene herself had betrayed her own hand and the rumors of her murder of the elves had been true. Ma’alin was disgusted with the lot of them. No one here was who they pretended to be. 

More murdered elves, murdered soldiers, assassins playing all sides, and servants massacred all in the name of the Orlesian Game to prevent someone from being embarrassed to the mass of the court. Ridiculous. Disgusting. She would put a stop to this. 

The Inquisitor flattered the masses, garnered enough favor that she had been named “Belle of the Ball” and granted special privileges to use Celene’s summer estate in her absence. When the time came her decision was made. She really wanted to do the noble thing and save Celene, but Celene was a danger to the elves and anyone who got in her way was quickly razed and forgotten. She preferred to have Briala pulling the strings behind the puppet Gaspard. She had met Lady Morrigan, the arcane advisor to the empress, and found her intriguing. If there was ever a woman who exuded an air of mystery and danger it was her. 

Later in the night, the decision had been made. Celene was dead at the hands of Lady Florianne. Ma'alin wasted no time and confronted Lady Florianne before the court, having dodged her trap and intended sacrifice for Corypheus, and exposed her machinations before the nobles. The cries of shock and surprise had echoed through the ballroom. Even Gaspard had turned his back on his cousin when the depths of her depravity and corruption were exposed. She had been quickly arrested and became property of the Inquisition. She would deal with her later, at her leisure, when she no longer felt the urge to spit on her rather than look at her face. 

That left her with Briala and Gaspard. In the end, none of them were without blood on their hands. Ma’alin presented the evidence against each of them. “You will work together for the betterment of this nation you each claim to love.” They each tried to protest and she cut them off.  
“Gaspard, you will call off your attacks against the throne. You will call off your troops. You shall rule as de facto Emperor at the bidding of the Inquisition and under the counsel of Briala. And in case you didn’t get the message earlier, this is your answer from me. You can keep your palaces and elven servants for a mistress who actually desires your favors. This knife eared savage desires none of your graces.” Gaspard huffed, turned his head and spat upon the ground. “As if I would ever desire an elf in my bed. I have higher standards than some people here.” Ma’alin glared at him. He was not worth the effort. She continued. 

“Briala will call off her assassins and use her spies to better the state of the elven people. She shall be the true ruler of Orlais and an attache to the Inquisition to keep us informed as to the status of the elves in Orlais. I request that you make reparations for the elves that survived your Empresses' attempts to wipe them out. 

Gaspard had balked but he knew she had him. One word from her and they would all fall into disgrace. The formal announcements were made to the nobles of Orlais with Ma’alin at their side. She looked among the faces in the crowd. Those who desired her before looked ravenous now. She felt a shudder of repulsion shiver down her spine. She did note the faces of the elven servants who crowded in around the side door that led to the servant’s quarters. There were smiles, waves, and looks of surprise on their faces. She hoped she had done them justice tonight. Her people deserved so much more. 

After the announcements were made, and Gaspard had made his congratulatory speeches, the revelry was renewed and the party kicked off with renewed gusto as if nothing had changed. Ma’alin had enough and escaped to the first empty balcony. She stepped out into the night air and took a deep breath to rid herself of the smells of the ballroom. The night was dark but the golden lights of the palace made their own kind of starlight. 

Lady Morrigan made her presence known once more. The arcane advisor was now at her disposal and would be traveling with them on their return to Skyhold. It was an interesting turn of events. Ma’alin thanked her and asked to be excused, she wished to be alone right now. Morrigan left her alone once more and Ma’alin could breathe again. 

She had just enough time to close her eyes and relax as she leaned upon the balcony railing when she heard a familiar footfall on the marble tiles behind her. His voice was clear, light, and reassuring. “I am not surprised to find you here. Thoughts?”

He leaned down to the railing, his arms resting upon it as hers did. “We achieved all our goals. I’m enjoying a moment of peace while it lasts.”

Solas looked at her, his eyes soft and admiring. “You should. They are fleeting enough. Hang onto them when you can.” He raised his hand to caress her back. From the ballroom, a tune from the next waltz began to swell and spill out onto the balcony. Solas looked at her excitedly. 

“Come, before the band stops playing….dance with me!” He stepped away into the center of the floor, bowed, and held his hand out to her. He was so elegant and regal in his uniform. She thanked the gods she had convinced him not to wear the atrocious hat he had shown her this morning. He was perfect just as he was. 

“I would love to.” She took his hand and he pulled her body close to his. His steps were smooth and graceful, just as they had been when they had practiced at Skyhold. His hand pressed in firm against her lower back and guided her to match her rhythm with his body. His hips were pressed against hers, his breath falling softly upon her face. A small smile tugged at his lips. 

“What is it, Solas?” she asked as she peered up at him. 

“I am so proud of you, vhenan. You took the major players of the Game and made them all your pawns. The nobles are in love with you. The rulers of Orlais are wrapped around your little finger. And you elevated the position of the elves. If history does not remember you for anything else, it will remember you as the woman who singlehandedly conquered Orlais.” He beamed at her from smiling eyes. 

“I did not do it alone. I had help. I could not have done this without the help of everyone who believed in me. I could not have done this without you.” Solas shook his head. 

“You give yourself too little credit. It’s because of you that we are here. It is because of you that this was possible. But your humbleness does you credit. Few leaders possess such a trait.” 

He spun her around and pulled her close again. Their bodies pressed against one another. She could feel his pulse against her hand as he entwined his fingers with hers. His voice was low as he whispered to her, “What are you thinking of?”

She closed her eyes and lost herself in the movements of his body that led her own effortlessly. “I was thinking of you. I was thinking of last night and how you made me yours.”  
She opened her eyes as Solas pressed his lips against her forehead. “It was you who made me yours, vhenan. Again and again.” He pressed his lips to hers and sought entry eagerly. She wrapped her hands around his neck and yielded to him as his arms circled her waist and held her fast against him. His hands sought the bare skin exposed on her back and his fingers twirled in the ribbons hanging from her hair. His kisses became hungry, more seeking, and a groan came from deep within his chest. She began to feel her feet dangle as he began guiding her back towards the side of the balcony. 

Solas let go of her and quickly jumped over the side railing to a secluded balcony garden. “Come.” he took her hand and lifted her over the railing. He led her behind the tall hedges, opposite the heavily curtained windows and out of direct light. He grabbed her by the waist and pushed her gently against the wall, covering her mouth with his. She moaned quietly as he pressed his right knee between her thighs, pressed his hips against hers, and raised her arms above her head to pin her wrists with one firm hand. His left hand cupped her jaw and held her face up to his as he kissed her so deeply that he was stealing her breath from her lungs. 

Ma’alin could feel everything within her turning into liquid heat. His kiss alone was making her weak and making her ache. She rolled her hips against him causing him to plunge further into her kiss, making her moan hungrily again. Solas pressed his length against her and she could feel he was already hard and pressing against his fitted breeches. She pulled her mouth away from his to catch her breath. His wet lips traveled down to the exposed flesh of her neck and sucked hard. She wrapped her right leg around his thigh and pressed further against him. He snarled and nipped at her skin in response. 

His mouth was hot and sucked hungrily against her skin. “I watched you tonight; saw the way the men stared at you, how they desired you, and the way you played with them. There was never a moment that I did not trust you and did not want to burn them down for daring to touch you.” Solas’ hand deftly slid between them and lifted the front of her skirt. His hand gently cupped against her curve and pressed her naked flesh against the palm of his hand. He growled lustily against her ear as he quickly slipped a finger inside her. 

Ma’alin arched against his hand as a sigh fell from her lips. His finger swirled languidly against her folds, teasing her as he reveled in how wet she was to his touch. He slipped a second finger within her and pressed firmly against her clit, his tongue flicking her earlobe as his elegant fingers traced small circles within her. Her back arched away from the wall and he released her hands, his free hand pulling open the front of her dress until her breasts were free of the silky material. His mouth clasped down upon her breast and sucked gently as he flicked her nipple against his tongue. The music inside the ballroom swelled just as she gasped and moaned wantonly and she was thankful no one heard her. His fingers pressed harder and quickened in their speed. Everything was getting tight and fuzzy. It was all fading away and all she could see and feel was Solas. 

Solas’ fingers continued to dance within her, driving her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. A cadence of small moans began to escape her mouth and it took a few moments for her to realize those sounds were coming from her. Her hands grasped at his chest, his belt, his breeches, anywhere she could gain purchase to try to feel him. He was fully clothed and she was barely dressed. It was not fair! He seemed to sense her frustration and small laugh escaped his lips. 

“I’m afraid that will have to wait, vhenan. But…” he raised up from her heaving chest to give her a mischievous grin, “…I have something else in mind. With your permission?” Ma’alin moaned in frustration as his fingers stroked within her. “Dread wolf take me, yes, Solas!”

He crushed his mouth to hers, lathed his hot tongue against hers and moaned into her mouth. Just as quickly he pulled back, his lips curving as he whispered against her lips, “Rendered with a word, with a kiss….” and he began to slide down her body, covering her bare flesh in hot, wet kisses until he was on his knees before her. She looked down at Solas as he knelt before her, such a strange sensation, and wondered what he intended. Slowly he removed his fingers from within her, his eyes met hers and he held her gaze as he placed his slick fingers into his mouth, sucking off the slickness from her arousal. Her stomach flipped and turned fluttery again as he closed his eyes and moaned softly at the taste of her upon his lips. “So amazing, vhenan.” he purred. Everything within her went twisty with anticipation. 

Solas leaned forward, grasped her hips in his hands, and kissed the bare flesh below her navel. His tongue traced circles as he began to move lower. She rested her head against the wall and placed her hands on the top of his head, massaging her fingers against his scalp. His kisses were going lower, so close to where she was burning and aching with desire. His left hand ran down her inner thigh, grasped her right leg and brought it up high, draping her knee over his shoulder. Her breaths were coming short and quick in anticipation. His other hand snaked up her left thigh to grasp her bottom and bring her hips closer to him. With a knowing smile he bent his head down to her and she felt the heat of his tongue as it caressed it’s wetness along her body. 

Ma’alin moaned loudly at the wet heat and the brush of his lips against her folds as he ran the flat of his tongue along her slit. She never knew anything could feel like this! Suddenly his tongue flicked eagerly and pushed inside her, caressing her clit just as he had with his fingers. His tongue pressed gently at first then firmly and with just the perfect amount of pressure. She doubled over involuntarily, the nerves in her body singing out in ecstasy. Solas’ left hand slid up to her abdomen to gently push her back against the wall. His tongue was undoing her, both hot and wet, and it began to dance in rapid circles around the core of her, teasing her relentlessly until she threw her head back and her eyes rolled back as she began to get lost in the sensation. His lips massaged her tender curve as his tongue flicked against her clit rapidly, then slowly, followed by circles. Without warning, his mouth closed over her and he sucked hard against her, pushing her further to the edge of sanity. Her hips were rocking against him instinctively, muscles tightening, and gasps were falling from her lips with little care for who heard. 

She looked down at him as he sucked between her thighs. Solas’ eyes were closed and his face changed from one of determination to one of hungry wantonness. He moaned against her and the vibrations made her purr. His lips released her clit and his tongue lathed at the folds within her, seeking her entrance and massaging her deeply with his tongue. She pulled at the tips of his ears, raked her fingers along his neck, and pulled him closer to her. His tongue was working it’s magic on her when she felt his fingers begin to caress her opening gently. She was slightly tender from their love making last night. His tongue licked slowly back to her clit as one long finger slowly slipped into her opening, sliding in easily due to the level of her arousal, and it curved within her as he tongued her clit with abandon. His finger curved within and stroked her gently, applying a gentle pressure that made her cry out when it combined with the hot pressure from his mouth. 

Her heart raced, her hips rocked against his mouth and his hand, and she held onto the wall to keep from falling or collapsing upon him. Moans were escaping her lips and she could not contain them. He pressed harder, quicker, licking her more greedily and his name began to fall from her lips in a chant. “Solas…Solas….oh gods….Solas!” He began to moan against her, his tongue flicking within her and his finger calling her to him. She could feel the pressure mounting, everything tightening, and she realized she was holding her breath. Solas’ tongue flicked rapidly over her clit as he hummed against it more loudly than before and she surged over the edge!

Her back arched away from the wall, her head was thrown back and she gasped for breath as the moans escaped her lips. Sweet waves were crashing over her like a storm and threatening to drag her under. She could see stars bursting under her closed lids. The tightness in her core was breaking apart like shattered glass and unfurling within her. She could feel him slowing his pace, the flicking of his tongue slowing to a gentle lapping at her arousal as he coaxed her to sustain as much of the sensation as possible. Her body began to relax and her breaths began to slow. Solas withdrew from her, planting kisses along her inner thigh. Licking his lips, he withdrew a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the remaining slickness from his lips and fingers. He left soft kisses along her hip bone as he began to stand, holding her firmly to the wall for support. His lips caressed her stomach, kissed her breast, trailed his tongue up her neck until he was planting kisses all along her jaw line. His hands clasped her neck as he peppered her face with kisses while she caught her breath. Her fingers grasped at his waist, holding on to him for balance. 

“Vhenan…” he caressed her face, kissed her hair. She sighed against his neck. “God’s, Solas…that was…you are amazing. But you could have warned me! Maker, I can barely stand!” 

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re going to pray to the Maker now, vhenan?” 

She laughed quietly and met his gaze. “At this moment I’d say my prayer to anyone who would allow me to feel my knees again.” Solas wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 

“You do not have to pray to absent gods, vhenan. I am here.” His smile was sweet with a wicked twist, a wolfish grin. 

“Am I to say my prayers to you, Solas?” she questioned him playfully. She met his gaze as fire danced upon his blue eyes. 

Solas pressed into her for a quick kiss, his tongue tasting of her, as his hands deftly straightened her gown and soothed the silk back into place. She wondered how many times he had done that in the past to be so well practiced at it. She pushed that thought deep down. It did not matter. 

“Do you still leave offerings and prayers at the shrines of Fen’Harel?” he asked as she straightened the collar of his jacket. It was an odd question to ask, she thought. 

“Yes, of course. Why?” she tilted her head and looked at him questioningly. She hadn’t yet gathered her wits back. She could barely feel her toes. 

Solas smiled knowingly, pressing her against the wall again, holding his hand against her neck as he leaned into her ear. 

Quietly he answered, “He hears you.” 

His lips burned against her skin as she melted in his arms. 

“Vhenan’ara, Solas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have posted photo references for the Inquisition's uniforms as well as Ma'alin's gown, a piece designed by Nickolas K, here on my [Tumblr.](http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/114889857214/photo-inspiration-page-photo-inspiration-for-new)
> 
> Copy and paste link if needed  
> (http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/114889857214/photo-inspiration-page-photo-inspiration-for-new)
> 
> Commission piece link  
> http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/115393654649/maalin-and-solas-my-solavellan-otp-from-my-fic
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! I had a great time reimagining this from a Solavellan viewpoint. Thank you for taking this journey with me!


	12. Take me there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mask Solas wears is beginning to crack as he lets Ma'alin get closer and closer to him. His lies and half-truths are beginning to weigh heavily upon his conscience. 
> 
> An exploration of the fade reveals dark answers to a question Solas had posed to Ma'alin that had been left unanswered. Sometimes, words are not enough. 
> 
> Warning: there are some dark depictions of physical violence in this chapter. There is the threat of non-consent but I'm not going there. The threat is awful enough. I am sorry. If you love clan Lavellan, I am doubly sorry.

Solas pulled his hood further over his brows to shield his eyes from the direct sunlight. The Inquisition may have arrived at Halamshiral in the high fashion of Orlais but they had departed by the most humble of means, trudging on foot enroute to the Exalted Plains. Ma’alin may have been used to long treks by foot but the grumbling coming from Varric and Dorian had started within the first hour of their journey. Dorian made his views on the matter very clear.

“My kingdom for a horse!’ is that how it goes, Varric? At this moment I’d sell my soul for a mule. Damned elves. ‘Let’s go by foot’ they said, ‘it will be fun’ they said…” Dorian grumbled. Ma’alin led the small group with quick strides but didn’t miss a beat.

“Dorian, did I ever tell you the tales of the cannibalistic tribes of Dalish that roam the hills of Tevinter? I hear they consider spicy ‘Vints a delicacy.” Solas smirked. Dorian waved his hand dismissively. “I am a rare, tasty morsel; we all know this is true.” Varric kicked up dirt from the path, spreading a cloud of dust that left Dorian coughing. “Sorry, Sparkler. I must have tripped.” Solas and Varric shared a glance and smiled as Dorian hacked behind them.

Solas caught up with Ma’alin and they fell instep with one another in that familiar way that came naturally to them, like breathing. He stole glances at her while she was focused upon the path ahead. She had discarded the silk and jewels of Orlais and once again wore her field armor and sported her bow and quiver. So much had passed between them while at Halamshiral and Solas did not know how to do…this, whatever this was, now that they were back in their normal routine. The knowledge that he should not have encouraged this, should not have professed desire for her, was pushed so far down that the nagging voice that had been dull whisper was now a silent ghost that haunted his periphery and vanished when it drew his attention.

Ma’alin was warm in his thoughts, comforting by his side, and lingering in his dreams. He tried to remember a time when another woman had commanded him body and soul the way she did and he could not. He had felt love, passion, lust, and tenderness for others so, so long ago when he was young and hot-blooded. To his shame, he realized he had never loved someone more than he had loved himself. Until now.

“Look! There!” Ma’alin’s excited voice interrupted his thoughts as she stopped to point at the horizon. Solas felt his jaw clench. The statue of the wolf stood prominent against the pale sky. Their first friendly conversation had been about the wolf shrines in the Dales. She had confided to him her faith in the Dread Wolf and that she said her prayers to Fen’Harel. He remembered a time when he had stalked the fade and met a young girl with prayers to the wolf upon her lips, and a child who embraced the wolf and trusted him with her life. An old friend would have asked him if he believed it was fate or chance. He did not have an answer. But he knew she was saving him as he had once saved her.

Ma’alin closed the distance between them and the statue with a graceful sprint, vaulting over a fallen tree with the skill of a hunter. Solas followed her at a more reserved pace while Varric and Dorian took the long way around. When Solas caught up with her she stood at the base of great stone statue, running her fingers along the weather worn paws of the wolf. Her cheeks were flushed from the sprint, the sun shining upon her ivory locks, and her eyes were dancing with excitement.

“Look, Solas! It is beautiful!” He shrugged his shoulders. “It seems rather ordinary to me.”

“Ordinary? It is amazing. This depiction of the Dread Wolf only exists here, in the Dales, the last great home of our people! These are older than the howling, half-starved wolf posted outside the camps.” She reached up to lovingly caress the muzzle of the statue. Solas felt conflicted. He was torn between the desire to confess to her and the need to conceal himself. Confession would undo her, break her faith, break her trust in him, and destroy his ties to Ma’alin, his anchor and the Inquisition. Concealment would continue to haunt and hurt him only. It was the omissions, the half-truths, that kept him awake nights. Could it be called love if he kept secrets from her? Could she love him if she did not know who he really was? In the end, he justified his actions with the belief that it was his heart alone that would be broken if this ended poorly. She was young, strong, and could easily find someone to love her with all their being if he were gone.

“He is graceful, powerful, revered…oh, Solas. So much has been lost about the true nature of Fen’Harel. The people would not revere a creature who was capable of being so reviled and feared as he is now. But, look, the shrine still stands.” She stood before the altar, fingering the broken pieces of the vases that had once held stark white flowers with large folding petals that perfumed the breezes with a sweet, heady scent.

Varric huffed as he and Dorian entered the glade. “This looks like a decent place to make camp.” Dorian groaned in disapproval. “A night on the hard ground in a land full of wolves and spiders. Imagine my joy. Do you see this,” he pointed to his face. “Do you see the joy written all over my face? No? No. Because it’s not there. Ugh, the things I get myself into.” Solas rolled his eyes. Dorian was all bluster and they knew it. They all knew he’d throw his own life on the line for Ma’alin if the need arose. It was a redeeming quality to be sure.

Solas and Dorian energized the tents and raised them within moments, setting up the first one behind the statue and the last, Ma’alin’s, infront of the statue at her request. Varric dropped his gear in the tent behind the shrine and Dorian dropped his bag next to the flap. They had automatically assumed he would be sharing Ma’alin’s tent. It was a small gesture that was disarming and yet he found it strangely comforting. It was assumed that where she went so did he.

Perhaps, he thought, some day…she would go wherever he went. He pushed that thought down, deep down, to a place where it warmed him and whispered of a hope he dared not think.

In the evening they gathered around the fire, eating fresh venison and roasted yams. The small party had spent the last week together before, during, and now after the events of Halamshiral and a comfortable silence settled between them as they enjoyed a warm dinner and cool breezes from the Dales. Dorian was reading. Varric was writing. Ma’alin laid upon the cool ground, relaxed, with her head resting in Solas’ lap as he gently caressed the pale tresses that spilled down his legs in loose waves. Her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks, caressing the delicate curves of her valasslin. The mark of Mythal graced her face. Even the writing upon her face conjured warm images of dear old friends and fond memories of his past. His slender fingers ran the length of her hair and the intimacy of it pleased him greatly.

Last night, at the ball, it had cut him to the core that for one moment she had thought that he loved her only for her physical beauty and his bodily desire for her. He did desire her, beyond explanation and almost beyond control. Last night he had been unable to contain himself, wanting to ravish her, to taste her, to show her how much he worshipped and adored her. He had made her understand the nature of his attraction but he could not convey in mortal words his desire to feel her spirit mixed with his own, to know her fully, to be known by her fully, and to become eternal companions. There were others who had been raised to godhood, granted immortality in ages past, and he was thinking dangerous thoughts now.

Ma’alin’s voice was husky as she stirred, rolling to face him, shadows falling across her face as she was silhouetted by the fire.

“You’ve grown still, Solas. What are you thinking?”

Solas had not realized that his fingers had stilled in her hair.

“I was thinking of Celene and the court, of Briala and Gaspard, and of the fragile nation of Orlais. Of Tevinter pressing down upon Nevarra. Of the Inquisition spreading over Thedas like a wildfire. There are spirits hovering by the veil to observe the thrones of powerful nations. The machinations, the betrayals…” his gaze focused upon the flames as he thought of intricate maneuvers that played out at the courts of Arlathan, of the scandals that unfolded behind closed doors, and of the plays for power that had the ability to rewrite history. “After our time in Halamshiral, I understand why. In any event, Briala will ensure that Orlais remains stable and Gaspard should be a steadfast ally. Briala will keep him in check and look after the elves.” Or what remained of them, he thought sourly.

“I hope Briala is able to use her position to help our people.” Ma’alin’s eyes flicked to his, awaiting a response. Solas met her gaze and was drawn from his present thoughts.

“ _‘Our’_ people? Ah…” he thought of elegant Mythal, vindictive Falon’din, lost Andruil…his eyes met hers and her brow was deeply furrowed as she gazed up at him. Then it dawned on him.  
“Oh! you mean _elves_!” the words fell from his lips in genuine surprise. She had caught him off guard.

“Sorry, I was confused. I, hm…I do not consider myself to have much in common with the elves.” Her eyes narrowed as she searched his expression.

“Who do you have much in common with, Solas? Who are your people?” The words were soft but there was fierceness behind their meaning. He had struck a nerve.

“A good question. I joined the Inquisition to save the world. Regardless of who my people are, this was the best way to help them. As for the elves of Orlais, I believe Briala is doing quite well on their behalf. She is an admirable woman.”

“ _You_ are an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.” His answer, his deflection from her doubts, had led her thoughts down a gentler path. Her words surprised him, warmed him, and endeared her even more to him.

“Thank you. Both for saying that and for seeing it. Few in this world can really see instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears.”

Her head still rested in his lap, her shoulders against his thighs as she laid upon the ground. She let out a small sigh, looked up at the stars, and extended her right arm so that it laid atop his left leg, absently fingering the threads that frayed from the un-hemmed ends of his worn breeches. Solas thought again of the ball, of the many unseen political battles that had been played out upon a dance floor, half-promises made through fake smiles, sexual favors exchanged freely as a currency for revenge and bribery…

“I had forgotten how I missed court intrigue” he sighed. Solas was lost in his thoughts, having slipped into warm memories of his youth when he had lived for such events and thrived upon the promises of danger, sex, scandal and intrigue that always permeated such events. Ma’alin’s voice interrupted his thoughts and snapped him back to the present. “You missed court intrigue? When were you at court?” She had turned towards him in order to meet his gaze more directly.

“Oh…” Solas’ breath hitched in his throat and his heart fell in his chest. His face kept a calm appearance, at least he hoped it had. The ever observant Inquisitor looked at him now with questioning eyes. How had he forgotten that about her? She watched, she listened and she observed; it was what she did and she did it very well. This was the second time she had questioned him tonight. Her familiarity with him was growing and she was getting dangerously close to picking apart who he was and who he was not. Damn. Damn him and damn these lies.

Solas swallowed hard, “Well, never…” he scrambled for words under her piercing gaze, “…never directly, of course. An elven apostate is rarely invited to speak with empresses and kings.”

He forced a small, teasing smile as his fingers resumed their caresses of her hair. In this moment he was greatly displeased but he hid it well. He hated the lies that fell from his lips. If they were not outright lies they were half-truths at best, mixed with a level of impromptu story-telling that would have put Varric to shame. His jaw clenched beneath his smile. There was a part of him that wanted to hate her, be angry with her, and blame her for making him lie and that was the part of himself that he loathed. The lie was his doing, not hers, and he would not take his frustration out upon her.

“In the fade, I have watched dynasties and empires crumble. It is sometimes savage, sometimes noble.” He met her intense gaze, willing her to believe the lie. After a long silence she hummed a slight approval. He frowned. She deserved more. She deserved the truth, or at least as much of it as he could give. He had come close to revealing the truth to her at the ball.

“I wish I could see these things you have seen.” Solas’ heart swelled with pride as his mood lifted with her words, looking at his beautiful vhenan.

“Do you? Do you really want to join me, vhenan?” A small nod against his thigh and he felt almost breathless. “I can show you how to do it on your own, Ma’alin. The anchor is your doorway if you know how to use it.”

She sat upright, her hair spilling across her shoulders as she leaned close to him, the fire dancing in her eyes as a mischievous smile played upon her lips.

“Show me. Take me there.”

“Come with me, vhenan.” Solas stood, took her hand as she rose from the ground, feeling relieved and happy with the new direction their conversation had taken.  
,  
Ma’alin waved to Varric and Dorian as Solas clasped her hand in his and led her into the darkness outside the glow of the campfire. Muffled chuckles echoed from the camp as Varric and Dorian shared a joke about frolicking elves. Solas and Ma’alin shared a glance and a smile as they walked towards the broken ruins that lay on the far side of the valley near the river.

Solas led her through a broken archway. The temple that once stood here had fallen long ago leaving broken shards of walls that jutted up into the darkness like broken teeth in a hollow skull. The moon was high in the sky and bathed the ruins in a soft glow, glittering off the river like stars. Ma’alin ran her fingers along the broken stone walls as he led her further within.

Solas stood upon the spot where an ancient altar would have once stood. He brought Ma’alin to stand before him, clasping her hands in his as he faced her. “Nervous?” he asked. She smiled softly and twitched her fingers against his palm.

“A little. What are we going to see?” Solas smiled in return.

“That is up to you, vhenan. We can explore memories here or we can explore your memories.” The smile disappeared from her face instantly. “Is something wrong, Ma’alin?”

She stared at their clasped hands, her brow furrowed. “Vhenan…?” he whispered.

She did not meet his gaze and it was obvious that heavy thoughts weighed upon her mind. Solas waited. She took a small ragged breath and looked out over the river. When she finally met his gaze she looked grieved and anxious.

“You asked me once why I hid the fact that I am a mage, why I did not embrace my magic. It’s not something I wish to discuss but…if I can show you…” her voice trailed off. Solas felt an ache in his chest.

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan.’ He brushed a stray hair from her face.

She sighed deeply. She held the mark up between them and it cast them in a vibrant green glow in the night. “Take me there” she said.

Solas took the mark in his hand, felt it surge against his flesh at his touch, and placed her palm upon his chest.

“Close your eyes. Reach deep inside where your mana pools, that tingling warmth where your energy surges. Can you feel it?” She nodded. “Good. Now, feel the surge from the anchor, recall that connection you feel between the anchor and the rifts and expand it.” The anchor sparked against him in the dark then dulled. Ma’alin’s eyes were still closed but he could sense she was not focused. Solas frowned. He placed the flat of his palm on her chest.

“Continue to focus on the anchor. Pull that power up your arm and into your chest. As you do so, I will focus my mana into yours and draw it out. When the two converge, when you begin to feel the swirling of energy, I want you to project it into me.” Her brow furrowed in questioning.

“Keep your eyes closed. Focus on the energy.” Solas begin to push his mana into her, feeling for hers. Her mana pool was weak, thready, but it was struggling to the surface. Solas bit his lip as her energy met his and began to mingle within it, rising in power and surging against him. The illumination from the mark grew as her growing mana intensified her focus. The glow that emanated from her hand spread to her wrist, flickered faintly up her forearm before surging again as his mana pushed further within her. Solas looked at her face, her features intense as she focused upon drawing the energy from the anchor. It sparked up her shoulder and across her collar bone. One last push from Solas and she was able to draw it into her chest, centered beneath the palm of his hand, the vibrant viridian green mixing with the pale blue energy of their combined mana and the anchor danced with illuminated tendrils upon her skin and across his hand, snaking up his wrist. The feeling of his anchor being once again within his own flesh was like a kiss from an old friend.

Solas could feel the anchor begin to open, the veil thinning around them. “Ma’alin, focus on the anchor. It is a door that you can cross through. Focus upon the energy within you and push it to me. You are not your body. You are not bound here. Let go of your physical being. Focus on the veil. Can you feel it?”

She hesitated a moment then nodded. “Let go, step through it. Go, I will follow.” The anchor sparked wildly and ignited within her, illuminating them both in a blaze of green flames. Solas only had a moment to react, reaching out to catch her as her body slumped against him. He laid her down gently upon the cool grass within the ruins. Quickly, he cast runes of warding around them for protection. Once the wards were active he knelt beside her, placed the anchor to his lips and closed his eyes. With his extensive walks in the fade it would only take a moment for him to join her.

Solas opened his eyes and smiled. He felt at home here. He always felt happier and stronger in the fade. He looked quickly about him. He was surrounded by a dense forest. His eyes searched the shadowed woodline for Ma’alin. There was a faint glimpse of her ivory hair in the distance. Solas walked quickly to join her.

“Ma’alin!” She turned to face him as he drew closer. “You did it, vhenan!” He could not hide his smile. She was so much more focused and stronger than she gave herself credit for. She still had much to learn but with practice she could become a mage who was a force to be reckoned with. He took her hand and beamed with pride. “That was impressive! No one I have ever met has been able to enter the fade on their first try. With the anchor’s power and your focus…imagine what you could do if we harness your mana and hone your magic skills!” He searched her face for pride, accomplishment, and joy. He found none.

“No” she said quietly. Solas felt as she had slapped him.

“No? Just like that?” He asked incredulously.

“Come with me, Solas.” She took his hand and led him down the hill. Solas could smell a wood fire in the distance. The smell of leather tanning. As they descended further, the sounds of voices, children playing. They came upon the outskirts of a Dalish encampment. Ma’alin was very still.

“How do I do this, Solas?” She did not meet his gaze, looking upon the clan as if watching ghosts. Solas stroked her palm with his thumb.

“Focus upon the memory, will it to the surface. It will come.” She took a breath and released a long sigh. The voices in the distance began to grow louder, the sunlight began to fade to dusk, and torches began to glow in the campsite.

“There” Ma’alin pointed to the dark haired woman with olive skin who walked the path leading from the camp. Solas could see the dark green marks of Ghilan’nain upon her face. He recognized her from before. “Keeper Istimaethoriel.” Ma’alin whispered. She had not aged well since Solas last saw her, when he had brought Ma’alin to the clan as a small child. She wore the traditional robes of a Dalish mage and carried a yew staff. She turned back to the camp and waved. She was soon joined by two Dalish warriors and a rogue. Between the armored elves hung the slack body of a young woman with long ivory hair. They held her up by her arms, her head hanging low as her chin rested against her chest, her toes dragging in the dirt as the men carried her out from the camp, the Keeper leading them down the path into darkness.

Ma’alin grasped Solas’ hand firmly in hers and they followed the group through the woods. Solas wanted to question her, to demand answers, but he did not. She was expressionless and distant. Reliving this memory was for his benefit, not hers, and the pain was etched within her silence.

The Keeper led them down the path to small, dark clearing which ended at a rock face. Keeper Istimaethoriel stood before the stone, cast an energizing spell, and the face of the rock wall opened to reveal a cave. The Keeper stepped into the darkness, lit a veilfire torch, and descended into it’s depths followed by the men dragging Ma’alin’s limp body.

Solas and Ma’alin stood at the mouth of the cave. “Are you certain you wish to do this?” She nodded. “How old are you in this memory, Ma’alin?” Her voice was hoarse and cracked when she spoke. “17 winters. I had been betrothed to Thalenn three months prior.” Solas squeezed her hand. She had never mentioned his name before.

“Is he one of the men in the cave?” She nodded her head yes.

“So is Lanvel. And Rin. Lanvel was my chosen until I was promised to Thalenn. Rin is Thalenn’s half-brother. Rin and Thalenn are Keeper Istimaethoriel’s nephews. When I was promised to Thalenn I was named as contender for First to the Keeper, the intended mage to assume leadership of the Clan when she passed. I refused. I told her I believed she was making me Keeper so that the right could pass to my proposed husband Thalenn, a non-mage who’s temper had proven him to be undependable and cruel, upon my death. I had no family to protest to the union, no one who could intervene against the Keeper on my behalf, and I was not her blood or the blood of her clansmen. I was disposable.” Ma’alin’s voice was calm. Emotionless. Solas could feel the anger welling up within him. He had saved her only to bring her to this. He had one more reason to hate the Dalish.

“I am sorry, Ma’alin. I did not know.” She looked at him blankly.

“How could you? But there’s more.” She stepped into the darkness of the cave, Solas one step behind her, holding onto her hand with a firm grip as his love took him further into her inner hell.

The inner cave was small, damp and the ceiling was low. The steps were crudely chiseled into the stone. They followed the glow of the torchlight at the base of the stairs. The stairs opened up to the small interior of the cave and Solas observed that the three men stood above the young girl who knelt upon her knees at the feet of Keeper Istimaethoriel. Her hair was tangled and covered her face, hanging limply down her body and trailing in the dirt. The Keeper waved to the men, motioning them to step back. Solas eyed them keenly. Two of the men looked similar to one another with olive skin and muddy brown hair. They wore matching swords strapped to their backs, and wore twin vallaslin of Dirthamen in matching shades of dark green. The other man, the lean rogue with sandy blonde hair and green eyes, stood behind the pair looking pained and trying to stand separate from the duo. Solas assessed that the rogue was Lanvel and he appeared to be the only one who was not taking pleasure in this display. Solas marveled at the cruelty and cunning of the Keeper, that she had conscripted his assistance in degrading the girl he had cared for, making him an accomplice so he could not reveal her deeds.

The other men, the matching duo, were Thalenn and Rin. Their body language, their sidelong glances, spoke volumes to the observant eye. Solas spoke aloud, “Thalenn and Rin…they are lovers.” It was not a question. She nodded. “They share a father and a bed. The Keeper conceals it. Anyone who questions it falls ill, goes missing, has a hunting accident. Everyone knows or at least suspects. The smart ones keep their mouths shut.” Solas felt disgust. The corruption and manipulation of this one clan rivaled the debauched machinations of some of the most depraved empires Solas had seen in his youth.

The Keeper circled the girl, this poor creature that he had a difficult time associating with the woman who stood next to him. She seemed so small and her body language was the image of defeat. Keeper Istimaethoriel tsked her tongue in mock concern.

“What am I going to do with you? Hmm? I feed you, I clothe you, I teach you, and this is how you repay me? You’ve been given the highest honor of this clan. All you have to do is nod your head yes and keep your mouth shut.” The Keeper crouched down infront of Ma’alin, grabbed her chin roughly, and jerked her head up to lock eyes with her gaze. Her grey-green eyes flared in the veilfire.

“Is that so hard, da’len? Hmm?” Ma’alin jerked her chin from the Keeper’s grasp and spat upon her feet. A hard smack echoed in the cave as Thalenn stepped up from behind, fisted her to the back of the head and sent her sprawling into the dirt face first. Solas’s stomach lurched. The Keeper stood over the girl and began to wipe her wet feet on the length of Ma’alin’s hair that fanned across the ground. A small gesture from her and Thalenn reached down, grabbed the length of Ma’alin’s hair and yanked her back to her knees with a pained yelp. Solas looked to his vhenan as she stood by his side, reliving this terrible moment, and she was as still as a statue. He pressed her hand and she pressed back, her expression unchanged. It was as if she were a spirit watching ancient memories of the past rather than memories of her own that were not so distant for her.

Thalenn held her fast by her hair as the Keeper withdrew her dagger from her belt. “Vain, ungrateful creature. Is this your pride and beauty?” She twined the length of Ma’alin’s long hair in her fist until her hand met Thalenn’s. He released his grasp and the full length of her hair was wrapped within the fingers of the Keeper. With one deft movement the Keeper slashed with her dagger and the silken strands were cut loose. A flick of her wrist and Ma’alin’s ivory locks fell to the dirt in a heap. The remaining short, choppy lengths fell about her face. Lanvel cringed behind Rin, closing his eyes as if he could will away the events happening before him.

Keeper Istimaethoriel stood before the silent girl. Solas could read the exasperation that emanated from her. She had been hoping for more of a reaction from Ma’alin. She had expected her to give in before now. She had craved tears, cries for mercy, pleas for forgiveness. What she got was stoney-faced silence and a blank stare. Her anger began to surge. It was palatable in the air.

“Let us talk of the future, da’len. You will marry Thalenn. You will assume the role of Keeper. You will give up this foolish notion of worshipping Fen’Harel. You will worship the gods as is expected of you. In case you have not noticed, Fen’Harel is not here. If I catch you at the shrine of the Dread Wolf again you will pay the price. There is no wolf coming to rescue you little fool.”

Ma’alin’s shoulders began to shake. What looked like a sob turned into a laugh. She threw her head back and laughed in the Keeper’s face.

“You are the fool, Keeper. You know nothing. The Dread Wolf _will_ come, and when he does, he will eat your heart.” Her eyes danced in the torchlight. A swift kick to the back from Rin and she was face down in the dirt again. Solas felt his heart wrench within his chest. This was too much to bear. The girl pulled herself up to her hands and knees, blood streaming from her mouth and dripping into the dirt. Keeper Istimaethoriel towered over her, pressed a foot to Ma’alin’s left shoulder and kicked her backwards. She landed with a thud against Thalenn’s shins before he pushed her off of him to land hard against her ribs.

“Listen to me well, _da’len_. You will do as you are told. You will teach the lessons as is the duty of a Keeper. And when the time comes, you will make the sacrifice of a Keeper for your clan but not before naming Thalenn as your successor. There will be no more mention of Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, or of other things you know. You _will_ embrace your magic, you _will_ practice the spells, and you _will_ make the sacrifices needed to serve Thalenn and your clan.”

Ma’alin’s face was hard with anger. “I will not. You are not my clan. You can kill me but you can not make me obey.”

The Keeper smiled. “Lanvel, leave us.” Lanvel looked about him. Realizing he had an escape, he could not leave quickly enough. He rushed to the stairs without a glance behind him. Coward, Solas thought. If he had loved her he would have fought for her. Fool. Solas would have been ripped apart in his effort to protect her before he left her to these jackals.

The Keeper tilted her head as she considered the beaten girl before her. “You will obey me. Perhaps you will not do it to save yourself, but I am willing to bet that you would do it to save your child.” Ma’alin’s expression of anger was replaced with confusion. The Keeper nodded to Thalenn. Her eyes grew wide as her mouth dropped open wordlessly.

“Do it.” She turned to smile at Ma’alin. “I’ll be waiting outside.” Ma’alin’s look of confusion quickly turned to horror as she pieced together the words. Solas closed his eyes and hung his head. He did not want to see this. He knew too much of the world to know what came next. The Keeper passed through them as she exited the cave, leaving Thalenn and Rin with Ma’alin in the dimly lit cave.

Solas turned to Ma’alin. “We do not need to see any more. You do not have to remember this, vhenan…” She looked at him with eyes that searched his. “You asked for an answer, Solas. I did not say it would be easily gained. Besides, it’s a reminder of what brought me here, of why I am the way I am, and why the Inquisition is my home.” She squeezed his hand. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and will away this ugliness, erase it from her memory. But she stood firm beside him and willed him to observe. He asked for an explanation and she was giving it to him the best way she knew how.

Solas’ attention was drawn to the men as they argued amongst themselves, their voices beginning to rise. Rin’s angry voice spat at Thalenn with accusations and jealousy. “Just do it, coward! You want to rule the clan so fucking badly that you would degrade yourself by fucking this…thing!” He pointed to her. “Go ahead, ensure your glory! Put a child in her and let’s be done with it.”

Thalenn pushed him angrily. “You think I want this? You think I would do this if there was any other way? The council has already voted against me. And she’s not going to cooperate unless we make her. Once she’s dead, and I am Keeper, the child can follow her. Until then, you have got to deal with it as I do, do you understand? I’m doing this for us!” Rin pushed him hard in the chest.

“You’re doing this for you. Get on with it.” Thalenn looked at the bloodied girl at his feet.

“Take her hands, hold her still.” Ma’alin began to shake her head, scooting backwards until she bumped into the slick wall. Rin grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down against the ground. Thalenn grabbed her ankles and pulled her body until she lay flat on her back.

Solas’ teeth ground within his tensed jaw. Such savagery disgusted him to his core. He knew these were echoes of the past but in this moment the rage within him made him want to lash out in destruction. Thalenn undid the laces to his breeches and dropped to his knees between Ma’alin’s legs. She screamed and it echoed in Solas’ ears. That terrified sound ripped him apart. He felt too stunned to move. He watched her kick and writhe against Rin as he held her down. Thalenn and Rin argued above her as Thalenn fumbled with his belt to pull his breeches down. They were distracted and in a flash Solas saw that look in her eyes, the one that told him she had calculated a worthy risk.

In one swift movement Ma’alin squared her shoulders, raised her right knee and put her full body weight into a kick that brought her foot squarely into Thalenn’s crotch. Caught in surprise, he screamed in agony and fell backwards, his hands grasping at his crotch and writhing upon the ground. Rin released her shoulders and rushed to Thalenn’s side. He quickly assessed that his lover was not mortally injured and turned his attentions to the girl scrambling for the stairs. She had no weapons. No staff. He caught her quickly, and threw her to the ground. She struck out against him and extended her fingers with a sharp gesture. Violet sparks exploded in the air around her attacker, the air smelling of ozone, as he screamed in agony. She unleashed another spark of energy but was cut short as Rin kicked her behind the knee and sent her sprawling into the wet earth. He stumbled to his feet, his left hand shielding his eyes, and proceeded to kick her once, twice, three times until she could barely breathe. When he was done he spat on her, “Dog loving bitch” he growled. He turned from her broken body and helped Thalenn stand. “Pull yourself together. Dashana will want assurances the deed is done. We will deal with your betrothed later.” Thalenn nodded feebly and clung to his lover. The pair ascended the stairs slowly.

Solas watched as the Keeper descended the steps, smiling in her perceived achievement. The brothers had failed to complete their duties but they had not informed her. From the look of Ma’alin, she concluded they had been successful. Solas felt a deep hate boiling within him.

Keeper Istimaethoriel knelt before the small girl who was curled up in the dirt. “Sit up, child.” Ma’alin struggled to sit, leaning upon an arm for support as the other arm clutched at her ribs. Blood flowed from her mouth, her face covered in dirt, her flesh turning black and blue. The Keeper reached into her pocket and withdrew a pendant on a silver chain.

“This is for you. It is a gift given when one is proclaimed as the First and future Keeper. It is your totem. A mark that tells everyone who you are. You were an outsider, a traitor, Ivoriel. You will wear the mark of the fox as a reminder to yourself and to others that even the craftiest and wittiest of traitors, and those who revere the Dread Wolf, can and will be broken.” She undid the clasp and reached out to wrap the chain around the girl’s neck. The pendant was the glyph form of the fox that Solas had noticed the first time he and Ma’alin spoke together in his study. The fox, a symbol for the companion of the Dread Wolf.

The Keeper smiled at the beaten girl. “Ivoriel is dead. She is no more. From this day forth you shall be called Ma’alin, my little fox, for make no mistake…you are my creature and you belong to me. The child that grows within you is mine as well. Anytime you cross me, it will pay the price. The Dread Wolf may have caught your scent once, child but where is your god now? I am willing to bet he is as dead as your rotted mother.” The girl glared at her and did not answer.

Ma’alin squeezed his hand. He had been so lost in the moment, in his anger and hatred, that he had not heard her.

“There’s nothing left to see here, Solas.” Her expression was pained and her features were drawn, her skin tight against her bones. He turned his back upon the faded memory before them, wrapped her tenderly in his arms and drew her close, pressing her face against his chest as he buried his face in her hair.

“Will it to be gone, vhenan. Release it. It is no more.” Her breaths became ragged and fell warmly against his chest. Solas pushed away the damp cave, the shadowy forest, and the voices of the Dalish camp. He pushed away the echoes of fear, pain, hurt, anger, and disgust that had surrounded them and permeated the air. The denseness began to lighten, the darkness began to fade and when Solas opened his eyes they were surrounded by the vast emptiness of the fade. He gently placed one finger under her chin and lifted her face to look up and meet his gaze.

“I am so sorry, vhenan. I did not know.” His voice betrayed his emotion and cracked. She took a deep breath. “How could you? It is not your fault, Solas.”

Oh, but it was, he thought. It was his fault. He was the one who took her to a foreign clan and abandoned her. He was the one she prayed to for protection and where had he been? It dawned on him then that he had just woken from his slumber around the time when this occurred. He was walking Thedas, seeking a means to unlock his orb and the anchor, as she was suffering this hell. If she had prayed he had not heard her. That means there were others that he may not have heard as well. Sorrow tugged at his heart and pained his face.

“You did not deserve such a fate. My only consolation is that you are here, with me now, and they will never be able to touch you again. I will always protect you, vhenan.” He caressed her hair, lovingly trailing his fingers down the long lengths that he realized she had spent years regrowing.

Ma’alin fingered his necklace as she looked up at him. “Do you see now why I fear my magic? It has only ever led to trouble for me, another way to be manipulated and used. When I could not control it then it threatened to control me. I will not be ruled by something that controls me, Solas.” Solas understood then. He had not quite understood before, but in those words it was not difficult to understand her aversion to it.

“With practice you will control it and no one else will ever be able to use it against you, vhenan. If you like, I can teach you.” She considered for a moment then shook her head. “I would like that.” Solas kissed her forehead.

“Promise me, Ma’alin, you will never return to them. I will burn them to the ground before I see you return to them.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. “Never.”

Solas leaned back to look into her eyes. “Vhenan…what do you wish for me to call you? Your given name, Ivoriel or the Keeper’s name…Ma’alin?”

“My name is Ma’alin. I am the traitor, the fox, and a devotee to the Dread Wolf. But, you can call me _‘yours’_.” A small smile curved at her lips, such a welcome sight after the hellish memories Solas had been subject to tonight.

“I am yours as much as you are mine. Now, time to wake up.” He held her tight as she began to flicker and fade.

Solas awoke in the center of the ruins with Ma’alin in his arms. Her eyes opened with a start as she grasped his sweater. He smiled gently as she came to.

“I will never get used to that.” She rubbed her temples and winced.

Solas lifted her to her feet, cancelled his wards, and led her by the hand back to the campsite. Varric and Dorian were already asleep and the fire had died down. He held back the tent flap as she ducked and stepped within. Solas followed silently, tied the flap shut and turned to the woman before him. The back of his hand grazed the curve of her cheek.

“You are so strong. You are a fighter, a survivor. You remind me of tales of Mythal. Like her, you are a force of nature. Never let anyone take that away from you, vhenan. You have a rare and unique spirit. You are worthy of worship.” His fingers moved to her collar and unbuttoned her leather coat. He slid the heavy coat down her arms as she slipped her hands from the cuffs. He helped her remove the underarmor padding and laid it the side. He dropped to one knee and placed her boot upon his opposite knee, unlacing her soft black leather boots one by one. She pulled her shirt over her head, her small breasts revealed, as he untied the laces of her leather breeches. His fingers slid under her waistband and slid her pants over her hips, down her thighs, and to her ankles allowing her to step out of them easily. His hands curved around the back of her thighs and drew her close as he placed a kiss upon her hip bone. His hands ran up her back as he rose and stood before her. He pulled his shirt off, his necklace falling against his chest. She untied his breeches and pulled them down his thighs and held them as he stepped out of them.

They stood naked infront of one another. Solas wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body against his, softly pressing her lips to his. His fingers curled to the back of her neck, grasped the clasp of her pendant, and released it. It tumbled between her breasts. Solas caught the fox pendant and held it up between them as he pulled back from the kiss.

“With your permission, I think we should do away with this.” Ma’alin fingered the fox totem as she considered his proposal. “Yes. Do what you want with it. I no longer want it. I know who I am and I know where I belong.” She traced her fingers along his neck. Solas tossed the pendant onto his pile of clothes and turned to her. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bedrolls. He laid her down gently, curling up against her body as he pulled the blankets up around them and held her close. Ma’alin snuggled against him and he could feel the tension draining from her body. Solas caressed her face. “Next time, vhenan, I will be more careful of the questions I ask of you.” A small hum against his chest told him she heard him. His arms wrapped around her tightly and protectively. Exhausted by her efforts to control the anchor, she quickly slipped into a deep sleep.

Solas lay awake as he struggled with the revelations she had revealed to him in the fade. He struggled to reconcile the actions and corruption of the Lavellan clan with the spirit of the woman they had raised. Somehow, someway, she had been forged with the strength to fight and had risen above the influences that had surrounded her and attempted to conform her to their corruption. It was little wonder she clung to Fen’Harel, worshipped the Dread Wolf, and found solace in his arms. They were so alike it was as if she had been made for him.

Solas kissed the top of her head. Should he and clan Lavellan ever cross paths they would quickly learn the full extent of the fabled wrath of the Dread Wolf.

Afterwards, he would feast upon the heart of Keeper Istimaethoriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came upon a quote from the Little Prince I fell in love with and it fits so well with Ma'alin and Solas.
> 
> "To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....” 
> 
> *swoon*
> 
> FANART - ellieraptor of tumblr did an AMAZING commission piece of Ma'alin and Solas at the Halamshiral ball to accompany chapters 10 and 11. Words can't express how beautiful this is and what an amazing job she did in capturing their dynamic. She takes commissions and I highly, HIGHLY recommend her. 
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Cyran9/media/Fanfic/the-fox_amp_the_wolf-link.jpg.html)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> See the piece here [on my tumblr](http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/115393654649/maalin-and-solas-my-solavellan-otp-from-my-fic)


	13. The Fox and the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when someone cares for you so much that they put up walls so they can't hurt you?  
> You break them down. Ma'alin pushes Solas to let go of his stoic facade and break down the walls he stays safely behind. 
> 
> Oh, and Dominant Solas makes an appearance. <3
> 
> Definitely NOT safe for work.

Another day, another long trek west. This time Sera and Blackwall took the place of Varric and Dorian, who were more than happy for some time off and to return to Skyhold. They rendevoused in the Dales bringing horses from Denet's stables. Ma'alin picked the Dalish All-Bred , a dark chocolate and milky white pinto, that didn't trot so much as glide. Solas was partial to the Green Dales Feral with it's piebald coat and penchant for sweets. Ma'alin had spied them sharing a tiny iced cake when he thought no one was looking. Blackwall rode an Anderfel Courser, the traditional horse of the Wardens, and Sera sat uncomfortably upon Denet's newly acquired dracolisk, the Abyssal Hang-tooth.

Ma'alin shook her head as Sera tried to wrangle the beast into submission. She suspected Sera had chosen the beast for it's name without really knowing what she was asking for. The dracolisk acted like a drunken, half wild beast and Sera was a poor rider for all her boasting. Ma'alin tried to suppress a smile as Sera clung to the creatures long sinewy neck to keep her butt in the saddle. "Ugh, it smells like ass!" she bellowed. "I'm gonna smell like a giant butt! You owe me for this..." Blackwall guffawed as she shot him daggers with her eyes.

  
In their forays through the Hinterlands they had found strange shards scattered throughout the land. During their time in Redcliff they discovered the cache of occularum skulls made to reveal the locations of these objects. Ma'alin still had nightmares about the terrible fate of the Tranquil who had been murdered and decapitated by the Venatori in order to make such monstrous items. She had ordered the occularum to be destroyed. Leliana's inquiries pointed them west for answers as to what these shards were, a place called the the Forbidden Oasis. It sounded ominous and tempting at the same time. The further they traveled the drier the climate was becoming and an oasis would be a welcome sight when they finally got there.

  
She and Solas hadn't talked much since the night before. They rose early to pack up camp, Solas placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before he left her to say his farewells to Varric, and the rest of the party had arrived soon after. She had the distinct feeling that he was treating her differently today, as if she were fragile and not to be touched. She glanced over to him as his horse kept in stride with hers. He was studying the horizon, lost in his own thoughts. He was a protector by nature, a guardian who watched over others, even if he denied it. Solas was a man of principles, with a strong sense of self and self-sacrifice, in addition to his pride which was often seen as arrogance. He had told her he would always protect her. Now it felt like he was trying to protect her from himself. She had a sinking feeling that if this continued, if he continued to see her as a damsel in need of saving, that they could lose what was forming between them. 

While he may be at the beck and call of the Inquisition now, knowing that they needed his expertise, she knew there would come a day when he no longer needed the Inquisition. No longer content to be one of the rank and file, he would strike out on his own again. He was too elegant and too learned to be one of the masses. He was the sort of man who could lead a revolution all on his own and she knew it. But at this moment, he followed her, a young Dalish who had little experience of the world outside her clan and apparently knew little of real elven history by his account. She knew that wherever he went, she wanted to go. First, she had to find a way to break his cool reserve and reach the man behind the facade. She'd caught glimpses of him in moments when they were intimate with one another, and in conversations, but she desired nothing more than for him to show her his true face at all times.

A loud moan of boredom came from Sera at the back of the group. A quick glance told her they were about to be in trouble. Sera was fidgeting in her saddle and boredom was taking over. Any minute now she was going to open her mouth. Ma'alin liked Sera and her to-the-point attitude, even if they had little to nothing in common, but Sera felt loud and brash...as if she had something to prove and Ma'alin liked her best in small doses.

Sera groaned loudly. "Ugh, stinking, disgusting ass-dragon! Blackwall, give me your horse." Blackwall glanced back at the wild-eyed dracolisk and huffed. "Forget it."

"You're no fun, you know it? Almost as bad as floppy ears up there" she gestured to Solas who continued to ignore her. She was silent for two seconds before she continued. "So...do all Grey Wardens have beards?" she asked.  
"No, just me. I stole all the beards..." Blackwall's voice went deep and gruff, lowering for special effect, "and all the power within. There can be only one." Sera snorted. "I knew it." Whatever else happened today, Ma'alin knew they would not be bored on this trip.

After a few hours of riding they were all in need of a rest and to water the horses. They dismounted near a small river and Blackwall took the horses down to the water. Sera withdrew her bow and began taunting the trees to come at her as she began dodging under the limbs and targeting the trunks. Solas stood solitary by the river, lost in his own thoughts again. This would not do.

Ma'alin glided quietly across the dry leaves until she came close to his side. He did not turn to acknowledge her. She took a deep breath. Dread Wolf take her if this did not work. She lightly placed the tips of her fingers at his lower back, took a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, and slipped her hand under the edge of his tunic, sliding her hand over his ass and cupping her palm at the cleft where it met his upper thigh. Solas jumped with a start and his head jerked quickly to face her. "Inquisitor..." his brows were furrowed, his voice stern, as if scolding a child.

She smiled demurely. "Am I the Inquisitor again? And here I thought we had gotten past that." She removed her hand and looked at him innocently. He quickly gained his composure but the tips of his ears were pink. "It is your title, is it not? It would be inappropriate to call you anthing else when we...we are around others." He jerked his chin in the direction of Blackwall and the horses.

Ma'alin stepped in closer, catching a familiar whiff of leather, dried leaves and cloves that was distinctly Solas. "On the way up here I could not get you out of my mind. Do you want to know what I was thinking, Solas?"

He looked at her cautiously. "I am sure you want to tell me, who am I to deny you the pleasure?" She smiled softly and reached out to loop her fingers around the thin belt at his waist. "Funny that you should mention pleasure as I was thinking of something you did at the ball, a certain something with your tongue." Solas' eyes narrowed as he peered down at her, a hungry look flashing across them. He blinked and recovered quickly. He gave her a small, friendly smile, and extinguished the fire.

"This is not the place to discuss this, Inquisitor." Such restraint. He was determined to coddle her, it seemed, after the events she revealed to him last night in their journey in the fade. Fenedhis, she thought. They were constantly in a dance of him coming closer and pushing away. That was it. It was officially war. She was determined to get under his skin until that stoic exterior cracked. He would either succumb or walk away and then she would have an answer at least. She was not a doll to be placed on a shelf and never touched.

She leaned her body against him, pressing her chest against his, and ran her fingers down his neck, causing him to shudder. "Perhaps you can think of a more suitable place to have this discussion. Or we can skip the discussion altogether and you can teach me how to do that trick with your tongue." She stepped back and traced her fingers suggestively down the center of her breasts to just above the curve between her legs. Solas watched her fingers with a deep intensity as they trailed. He took a step towards her. She smiled and took a step back. There was a pause and she questioned whether he would take the bait or not. His eyes lingered on her fingers as she trailed them back up to her neck. He stepped forward again and advanced until she could feel his body heat against her skin.

"You aim to tempt me, yet I wonder if you have yet to grasp the nature of the fire that you poke at?" Solas leaned his face to the side, bending down ever so slightly so his form didn't tower over her, and looked her in the eyes. "Fire is a curious thing, Inquisitor. It can be warm and inviting, the feeling of home with a warm hearth, or it can be ravenous and scorching, destroying all that lies in it's path. Be careful, Inquisitor, lest you get burned."

"I wonder, Solas, is that a threat or a promise? Either way, don't answer that now. We'd best get back on the trail. Wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting." Solas glared at her as she turned away. She hid a smile as she gathered her gear and remounted. Once on the trail, the glares continued. He was not angry, she was certain, but he was perturbed. She had sparked a small reaction in him. Best to let it brew a while. Sera and Blackwall were deep in conversation behind them and Sera giggled like a lunatic. That was always a sign of something bad on the horizon. Blackwall coughed and cleared his throat, suppressing a laugh.

"Solas, you have a moment?" Blackwall called out to the rider glaring hard at her. She tried not to smile. Solas nodded his head. "How can I help?" he asked politely. A muffled giggle from Sera.

"Sera and I were just talking about you. We need you to settle a question for us." Blackwall sounded casual and in good humor. Beside her, Solas sighed heavily. "Sera's involved? So this question will be offensive." Another giggle. Blackwall was trying to suppress a smile of his own. "Yes. Probably. Sorry." Ma'alin snuck a peak at Solas and caught him rolling his eyes.

"So," Blackwall began, "you make friends with spirits in the fade. So...um, are there any that are more than just friends...if you know what I mean." Solas turned abruptly in his saddle to look back at the giggling elf and the Warden whose shoulders shook from bottled up laughter. "Oh, for...really?" Blackwall looked at him innocently. "Look, it's a natural thing to be curious about!"

Solas turned back in his saddle, facing forward and looking put out. "For a twelve year old!" he answered. Blackwall was not done pushing yet.

"It's a simple yes or no answer, elf." Ma'alin was trying hard to suppress a smile of her own. Blackwall was really pushing his buttons.

Solas shook his head. "Nothing about the fade or spirits is simple, especially not that."

"Aha!" Blackwall cried out, "So you do have experience in these matters!"

Solas huffed. "I did not say that" He huffed again. Blackwall laughed, "Don't panic. It will be our little secret." Sera was fighting a case of the giggles.

Solas glared at the pair behind him. "Ass!" and he spurred his horse to take the lead. Blackwall guffawed.

"Now who's twelve?!" Ma'alin shot them both a glare. They had gone too far. Blackwall shrugged and Sera made wanking gestures.

Solas ignored their chiding and taunts for the rest of the afternoon. Their next stop was in a glade at the edge of the forest with a shallow stream. Blackwall, Sera, and Ma'alin ate fresh apples picked from a nearby tree with slices of a creamy cheese they had brought with them while drinking Orlesian red from a bottle Sera had stolen from the kitchens. Solas walked the edge of the woods in search of rare herbs. Ma'alin grabbed half an apple and a few slices of cheese from their pack and went to join him.

He crouched at the base of a wide tree, picking small mushrooms that grew beneath the wet leaves. "Have you come to laugh at me as well, Inquisitor?" he asked quietly. She knew they had gone too far. Now she regretted how she had teased him before.

"Dread wolf take me, Solas, no. Perish the thought. Unlike our curious friends, who are only just beginning to know you, I know what you are like in the fade." She traced the tips of his ear with her fingers. "And I doubt any of them can boast that they've done it in the fade." A very tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Do you ever think of that, Solas?" He rose slowly, facing her as she began to pull back behind the wide tree. He followed, closing the distance between them as her shoulders came to rest against the dense bark, the tree trunk blocking them from sight. Solas placed one hand on the trunk next to her shoulder and leaned in.

"Do I ever think of it? What do you think, lethallin?" His body drew in closer. She reached for his hips and pulled him against her, pulling her hips to his groin and applying pressure. His head hung above hers, his eyes were dark and wanton. She ran one hand up the back of his left thigh until it curved over his ass and she gripped it in her hand. A small growl vibrated in his chest. That was her first sure sign that his cool, stoic resolve had developed a deep crack. Now if she could only draw him out.

"I think you're afraid to think about it. I think you're afraid of letting go, afraid of letting me in, and afraid of what might happen if you do what you really want to do." Solas looked amused.

"Is that so? And what is it you think I want to do?" he asked. She bit her lower lip as her right hand trailed up the front of his thigh, slipped under the front of his tunic and brushed against the length of his member, finding it pressed hard against his breeches.  
Ma'alin licked her lips and felt a shiver run down her arms and back. "I was really hoping you'd show me."

Solas closed the distance in an instant and his lips crushed against hers, pressing her firmly into the tree. His hands snaked up the bottom of her shirt until they hit bare skin and grasped. She had to keep from yelping at the feel of his cool fingers against her stomach and under her breasts. He pressed his hips into hers. He was just as aroused as she was and there was no way he could deny that. She placed her fists in the center of his chest and began pushing him back. He resisted, curling his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her deeper into the kiss. She was beginning to lose her wits! She pulled her mouth away and inhaled deeply to catch her breath. His lips locked against her neck as he began to nibble at her flesh.

"Solas...they're going to see us!" One hand began to slip down the back of her waistband. "I do not care." he growled against her neck. Ma'alin threw her head back and smiled. The ever-so-formal Solas was quickly fading. She was about to be cruel in hopes it would pay off later.

"Solas," she pushed against him again, "we can't. Not here." She was already shimmying out of his grasp.

"Ma'alin...come here." She danced away from his grasp, straightening her shirt.

"No. Do you realize that's the first time today you've called me by my name? If you want me, you'd do well to remember that I've been much more to you than just the Inquisitor." Solas looked at her in exasperation.

" _If_ I want you? Is that a serious question?" Ma'alin came closer and leaned in for a kiss, stopping just short of his lips. Solas leaned in to connect and she pulled back. He leaned in further. She smiled and pulled back again.

"Hhhnghh, stop toying with me, Ma'alin. You're playing with fire." He snarled under his breath, his voice was gruff and full of pent up desire. She looked up at him with a mischievous smile.

"I'm betting on it. But first, you have to stop treating me as if you're going to break me. You're either with me or you're not. I can not keep bouncing between hot and cold with you, Solas. Secondly, if you want me....you have to catch me." Solas stood tall and stepped away from the tree, gliding towards her with purpose like a predator stalking it's prey. She'd seen wolves do that, one paw placed infront of the other, stalking silently. He looked wolfish now, his narrowed eyes locked on hers and head tilted to the side as if considering which direction to pounce from first to catch her off guard.

"I will catch you, little rabbit" his voice was sensual and it purred as he moved closer to her. "And when I do, you will be begging for mercy." Ma'alin side-stepped him as he lunged and reached for her with his long fingers; she was smiling wickedly at the furrowed brow upon his face when he realized he had missed.

"Come and get me, wolf. I dare you." She met his smouldering gaze and smiled playfully. "I wonder what you will do with me if you can catch me?"

A sly smile spread upon his lips. "Be careful what you wish for, vhenan." He reached for her again but she danced just out of his grasp, his eyes following her and calculating her next move. She used the element of surprise by doubling back as she darted in quickly, grabbing his shirt front and pushing him back until he was against the tree. A soft breath fell from his lips from the impact of the push as she was pulling his face down to meet hers. She kissed him hungrily and rolled her tongue forcefully against his. He was fighting her for control and trying to slow her kiss to something softer. His hands pushed against the bark of the tree as he began to right himself. In an instant he would have his hands on her.

Ma'alin pulled back and moved away quickly before his hands could gain purchase and hold her still. Solas' eyes burned with want and something else...mischief? She took another step back, feeling satisfied with her victory, his eyes still devouring her. "You forget, sir...I am no rabbit." She smiled at him playfully, teasing him further. "Continue to call me 'Inquisitor' as if you've never touched me, or called my name with those lips while you were inside me, and I promise you will regret doing so." Solas glared at her. He was both amused and frustrated, and wanting her as badly as she wanted him. 

"I already am, vhenan, I assure you" he muttered through gritted teeth and a grimaced smirk. Their eyes locked and she could feel the tension pouring from his body. Small wisps of cold were tingling in the air. She had gotten to him and he knew she knew it. It seemed the role of being dominated and denied what he wanted did not suit him. It felt wrong to tease him so but she needed to break through the walls he had spent all night building between them as she slept. Her past had made her stronger but now his overriding need to protect her from further harm was beginning to seriously interfere with the intimacy that had grown between them in the past few weeks. She had woken up this morning to a politely withdrawn Solas. The last thing she wanted was to be da'len to his hahren. The quicker she could squash that, the better. At this moment, the look he gave her said he wanted to straddle her or devour her. His polite mask of indifference was broken and he was fixated upon her. He held out his hand to her and, with his index finger, motioned for her to come closer. She shook her head no and took another step back.

"I said come and get me, Solas." She looked up at him from under her dark lashes and bit her lip. Ma'alin smiled mischievously at him before turning to walk back to the horses. "Blackwall, saddle up. Solas wants to get moving as soon as possible." She stole a glance at the elf as he doubled over, placing his hands upon his knees, to compose himself while taking deep breaths. Let him think on that the next few hours. They mounted their horses and set out for the path again. She whistled a lively tune while Solas shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and looked at her with heated, narrowed eyes. She was beginning to know him better than he would admit. Behind that intense gaze she saw a different kind of fire, the kind that made her ears flush.

They continued to ride for what felt like days before finding a decent place to make camp outside the ruins of what appeared to be an ancient elven bath house. Most of the walls still stood, and a great stone staircase led down a spring-fed pool that still flowed and fed out into a river. Ma'alin was ecstatic at the thought of a decent bath. They laid their tents outside the entrance of the bath in what would have been a courtyard. Solas skulked about the camp, eyeing her in sidelong glances as they set up the tents for the night. She put her head down and tried hard to repress a smile. Sera's cotinued jibes fell upon his deaf ears. He was in no mood to to give consequence to her childish jabs.

After they ate, Sera and Blackwall were deep in their cups and telling drunken tales of the conquests of barmaids. Solas had grabbed his herbs and set off to go cool off in the fade somewhere for a while. His heated glances had faded and his glances were more curious now than the scorching ones he had given her earlier. Everyone was unwinding from the long day of riding and this was her perfect chance to slip away. Grabbing a small toiletry bag, she went quickly down the stairs to the ancient bath. She was grateful her other companions weren't the regularly bathing kind so she didn't have to share.

She stood at the edge of the pool in an open room painted in faded frescos. She could not imagine the type of elves who had lived in such a place. She looked about to make sure she was alone. Dusk was just starting to settle in and the last rays of sunshine cast long shadows across the crystal clear pool. She lifted her arms and pulled her tunic over her head, dropping it to the side. Next to come off were her boots. One final glance around and she removed her breeches, dropping them on top of the pile of clothing next to the pool. She stretched her arms above her head, fingers entwining with one another, and stretched her body in the warm rays of sun. She pulled the leather tie that held her hair back and let it tumble down her back. She pulled a bottle of white peach and jasmine oil from her bag, set it on the side, and took her first step into the pool. She hummed with happiness. It was warm but not hot and felt like a second skin. She took another step in and then flung herself in with abandon, the water engulfing her as she sank below it. It felt heavenly. She spread her arms and languished in the weightless feeling as she began to float to the surface. She broke through the surface, gasped for breath as she brushed her hair from her face and turned to the stairs. And she froze.

Solas. He sat perched on the edge of crumbled wall, one knee drawn to his chest as the other lazily swung to and fro like a cat's tail. He had been there all along and his mouth was curved in a smug smirk. Ma'alin felt a little taken aback, surprised at an interruption in a moment when she thought she had been alone. With his current expression he was very hard to read. But she had the distinct feel of prey again.

"Solas...care to join me?" She asked, sounding more playful than she felt. His head tilted to the side as he considered. Gracefully he jumped down from his perch and dropped his gear on the ground, tugging at his belt. "Don't mind if I do." His expression was coy as he removed his jacket, pulled his shirt over his head, and quickly slid from his breeches. She tried not to stare, she really did, but the sight of him made everything in her turn fluttery and hot. He was tall, broad shouldered with a lean waist. He was toned and lithe with the form of a dancer. The shape of his thighs and his rear were beautifully sculpted. His manhood was perfectly proportioned and generous in size without being too much for his long and lean frame. She didn't think it was possible for men to be built like that and it was so amazing to be proven wrong.

Solas descended the steps into the pool, holding her gaze as he came closer to her. She took a step back. Something in his gaze had that predatory feeling again. He smirked as he drew closer and she took another step back. "Where are you going, vhenan?" His voice was smooth like velvet. A small, nervous laugh escaped her lips. "Ha, I think it best if I go over here and you stay right there. You look like the Dread Wolf that the Keepers warn us children about in the dark woods." The few remaining beams of sunlight flashed in his eyes as a wolfish grin spread across his face. Her eyes grew large. He was here to catch her!

"Oh, no you don't! You're cheating!" She splashed the warm water in his face as he drew closer to her. "You're not playing by the rules, Solas!" She laughed until she realized he had her backed up against the far wall of the pool. She splashed more water at him in an effort to drive him back. He shielded his eyes and advanced. Fenedhis, she felt like a rabbit now!

"You stalked me! That's not fair! That's entrapment!" She could feel the smile on her lips and hear the laugh in her voice but something deep down inside that remembered the primal fear of being hunted was beginning to rise. In an instant he was upon her spinning her around as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her body against his, her back pulled tight against his chest and the back of her head resting against his collarbone. One strong arm was around her waist, the other pinned her against him as the elegant fingers of his hand coiled around the base of her neck, holding her firmly in place. Her heart was racing, beating against her chest, and her breaths came short and quick. She felt exhilerated, apprehensive, and aroused as the heat of his body pressed against hers and he held her fast, securely against him, without hurting her.

His lips were at her ear and his hot breath brushed against her skin. "I've told you before, vhenan, be careful what you wish for. You asked that I catch you, and I have. And you must consider the fact that there are no rules when you want to be caught." Oh Gods, his voice was husky and low and full of raw desire. She shuddered against him and she felt his lips curl into a smile against her skin.

"You've been caught in your own trap, fox. Now then, let us proceed. You wanted to know what I would do with you when I caught you, did you not? Rest assured, Ma'alin, I've come to claim my prize." His hand slipped from her waist and dipped into the water as it glided swiftly down her stomach til it cupped her curve in the palm of his hand. His left hand was still at her throat, holding her firmly against him, her pulse beating rapidly against his fingertips, as his fingers pushed inside her. She moaned at the sudden shock of feeling his fingers enter her, their coolness against the heat that had rapidly developed inside her. His index and middle finger slid her to clit and began to press against her, rubbing slowly and firmly. Solas' breath hissed against her ear as she bucked against his hand and pressed her bottom against the length of his member. She reached down between them and grasped it within her hand, felt him twitch in her palm. He was already stiff and it had risen until it was pressed between them and nearly flat against his stomach. She moaned as he pressed his fingers more firmly against her and she could feel the moan that escaped her lips before she heard it, the sound vibrating against the pressure of his hand around her throat. She ran the palm of her wet hand down the underside of his member, feeling the smoothness of the skin beneath her fingers, and pressing harder against him. Suddenly she was released from his grasp and he spun her around quickly, grabbing her arms and pulling her to him in a savage kiss. She yelped in surprise as his lips ravaged hers, forcing his tongue in deep and stealing her breath in a quick inhale. He pushed back just as quickly, leaving her wanting for air, and feeling dizzy. 

Solas looked at her hungrily as he pressed his fingertips in the center of her chest and began to push her back, guiding her to the steps that exited the back of the pool. She took three steps up, when he stopped her. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around again, his chest against her back. "Kneel" he purred in her ear. She was exhilarated and a bit apprehensive of the energy that emanated from him in this moment. He felt powerful, sensual, and dangerous. And damn him, her body was on fire and aching with desire for him. Ma'alin dropped to her knees in the few inches of water that skimmed the stairs. Solas placed a hand in the center of her back and firmly pressed forward until she was upon her hands and knees against the incline of the shallow steps. She felt him kneel behind her, one hand spreading her legs wide as the other reached up to entwine his fingers in her hair, gently tugging her head back. Her insides were a twisty mix of desire and anticipation stirred with the hint of danger. She was beginning to feel drunk.

Solas grabbed her hips and pulled her to meet him. Ma'alin moaned as she felt the hardness of his member push at her opening and in a quick thrust he was inside her, sheathed to the hilt. His free hand curled around and he slid his fingers back into her slick arousal. Her body ached and thrummed and only the presence of him filling her answered that need. A firm tug on her hair timed with a deep thrust within her made her bite her lip to suppress a moan. Solas was going slow yet deep with a thrusting force that was stroking her in all the right spots. With each methodical thrust he gave a slight tug at her hair, and traced circles around her clit, which made all her nerve endings come alive. She closed her eyes and reeled at the divine pressure she felt when he was inside her.

Solas curved his body over her back, his lips nibbling at her shoulder blades. With his next stroke she clenched around him and felt a wave of pleasure echo through her core at the discovery of a new feeling. It effected him as well, causing him to pull more firmly on the length of her hair and bite down on her flesh as he groaned against her shoulder. She flinched at the slight twinge of pain but it was forgotten as he thrust into her again. She clenched again, her pressure exerting against his own as he pushed further in. He groaned again and his fingers became more insistent inside her, coaxing her and making the ache inside burn hotter. His thrusts were beginning to come more quickly and she was focusing upon his swift entry to meet him with her newly discovered ability. Solas' teeth bit at her flesh as he growled against her shoulder, his fingers swirling sinfully inside her. She was building up quickly to release and with his groans falling upon her back she could tell he was close as well. His manhood was hot and slick as he thrusted within her, pulling out more than halfway, and thrusting in again. Each thrust was stroking inside her and the pressure was intense, more than what it had felt like the last time they were together. She heard panting gasps echoing off the walls and realized they were hers. She lifted a hand from the stairs and pressed it against the hand he held within her, applying more pressure against the fingers circling her clit. A deep moan hummed against her back.

Suddenly, his hand left her waist and came back to the base of her neck, pulling her body against his as he rose up, her back arching against his stomach, her hands reaching behind her to grasp his hips as they pressed against her. His thrust stopped but he stayed sheathed within her, his finger working languid circles against her clit. His lips sucked at her neck, tracing his tongue to the base of her ear. Warm breath spilled upon her cool flesh as he pressed his lips to her earlobe.

"I caught you, vhenan. I want to hear you say it." His voice was sensual, demanding, and confident. In this moment, he knew the power he had over her. Her body was on fire and she was aching for a release that he was holding hostage. She tried to move, to arch against his erection for some sort of relief, but his hand at her throat held her firmly against him.

She moaned in frustration, her voice heavy with desire, "You win! You caught me, you win." She felt his lips curve into a smile against her ear as his fingers stroked against her. She struggled to gather her wits.  
"You forgot one thing, Solas..." she clenched around him as tightly as she could, sustaining the pressure, and making him curse. "You are mine. I want to hear you say it." She felt a shiver run down his body as a moan escaped his lips and fell upon her ear.

"I am yours, Ma'alin." He thrust against her, causing her to cry out.

"I have always been yours." He withdrew slowly and thrust within her again quickly and deeply.

"I will always be yours, vhenan'ara." He thrust again and she began to feel a shattering within her.

Solas thrusted into her again and again at a quickening pace, holding her body tight against him, her breasts bouncing freely and his hand still within her coaxing her to the edge. His tongue flicked at the edge of her ear as she began to gasp. He leaned back, extending their bodies together in an arch, as he continued to thrust within her. Instantly everything broke inside her and the tightness between her legs burst into hot, undulating waves of euphoria. She gasped loudly, her hips bucking against his fingers and her body clenching around him as he continued his thrusts. Brillant stars and explosions burst beneath her closed eyelids as every nerve in her body snapped and began to expand. A deep growl was reverberating through his chest and against her back. He cried out as he came within her, holding her so tightly against him that she was taking her breaths in short gasps. She closed her eyes and could feel the liquid heat pouring from him as he spent his orgasm within her, extending both their pleasure by continuing shallow strokes within her. His thrusts finally slowed, his breath hot against her ear, one final buck of his hips against hers as he gently withdrew from her.

They were both spent and covered with sweat. Solas wrapped his arms around her and drew her in tight against him, his mouth placing delicate kisses on the top of her shoulder, the back of her head resting against his chest. With one hand he gathered the length of her hair and threw it over his shoulder, removing any barrier between them. He stepped back into the water, taking her with him, until they were waist deep again. The water ebbed and flowed about their bodies, providing a cool relief to the heat upon their skin. Solas released her enough that she could turn and face him, still encircled in his arms. She ran her fingers along his collar bone, down the center of his chest and across his ribs. She wanted to tell him how he made her feel but she did not know words that could express the depth of how he made her feel. Instead, she decided to seal this moment with a promise.

"Solas, from this moment on, we belong to each other. You choose me just as I choose you. No more pushing me away. And no more secrets." She looked at him with loving eyes, searching his face. He looked happy but his eyes were sad.

"I choose you, Ma'alin. I will not push you away again. However..." he paused and she realized he was holding his breath. "...however, there is one secret that lies between us, one from my past, that must be kept a little while longer." She tried to pull back from him, in shock and incredulous at the words coming from his lips. He held her fast.

"Ma'alin, listen to me. Believe me when I say that to keep any secret from you pains me deeply. Be still, and hear me, vhenan." His voice grew firmer as she pushed her hands against his chest to be free.

"Ma'alin...fenedhis, Ivoriel! Look at me!" She snapped back to meet his gaze, her struggle against him stopped. His eyes were pleading and full of emotion as he searched her face. His eyes, normally a soft blue, had faded to a violet tinged grey in his moment of distress. He sighed heavily.

"As with many other things, this does not come easily for me, Ma'alin. But I am trying. For you, for me, and for us. There is one thing, one secret, that is not safe for you to know. If I could tell it to you now, and know with certainty that it could not harm you, I would drop to my knees and confess it here, vhenan. But I can't. Perhaps in time, I can explain it to you. When that time comes I will confess it to you. Until then, I need you to believe me when I say that this does not effect how I feel for you or my commitment to you. Please, vhenan, trust me enough to believe that I would do nothing to hurt you and to let me know that my confession here has not fallen upon an unyielding heart."

Ma'alin felt conflicted. She had confessed her secrets, shown him the past she kept hidden from others. What secrets could he possess that could harm her? Her eyes met his and they burned with a longing and earnestness she had never seen there before in his gaze. He was always so guarded. She had seen lust, pride, joy, and even love but she had never seen him with a more earnest countenance than he had now. His eyes searched hers for a sign, pleading for an answer.

She lifted her hand and ran her fingertips down his cheek, cupping his jaw in her palm. "I trust you, Solas. In time, I hope you will see that your secret is safe with me. But no other secrets." His lips curved in a beautiful smile that lit up his eyes and spread relief through his face, "No other secrets, vhenan."

That night, as she lay in his arms, she dreamed of a great white wolf with gentle cerulean eyes, standing in the midst of green swirling flames. In the darkness, a jet black, vaporous figure with six flaming red eyes paced in the distance. In the middle of the two figures stood Solas, arms outstretched, dark tendrils of long brown hair swirling about his shoulders as wisps from the fade danced around his feet, clutching at the dark hooded robe he wore. When she called out to him the wolves disappeared and his eyes opened to look at her.

He had six red eyes.


	14. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sojourn in the Forbidden Oasis with some fluff and flower crowns. Then...broken things. 
> 
> See end notes for appreciation giveaway happening on my Tumblr.

Solas awoke before sunrise, his body entwined with hers, her hair spilling across his neck. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the crisp sweetness of peach mingled with the ethereal floral of jasmine. It was delicate, yet lingering, and her scent enveloped him and made him her own. 

Just as she had done. 

She had broken his walls, opened his heart, and showed him what a real love could be. She had opened doors to possibilities that he did not believe could exist for him. He was not sure when it had started. When he first met her he thought she was lovely but lovely faces come and go. In his younger days, he had prided himself a master of the Game and had taken pride in having the reputation of many romantic conquests. He had seen many lovely faces that hid depraved spirits swirling in deceit, lust, and selfish desires. The man he was then had yet to learn how to see past the superficial facades, how to look into another's eyes and see who they really were behind polite smiles or decipher which ones were most likely to eat their young when threatened. He could not say with certainty that if he had met Ma'alin then, with her subtle nature and quiet perseverance, that he would have noticed her. She was not flashy or demanding of attention, not one to coo and simper to catch a man's desire, and definitely not one to feign regard in hopes of personal gain. No, he thought, he probably would not have noticed her then. Not until she opened her mouth, that is. 

Ma'alin had a beautiful voice, he thought. It was feminine but womanly, and her words were well measured before she spoke, which gave the illusion that she was older than her years. Her voice was honest. It was cool and detached. It could be coy and teasing, willing him to draw closer to unlock her secrets even as it kept it's cool inflection. In Haven, in their first brief talks, she had been distant and detached. Their encounters were brief and to the point. She had asked him questions of the other elves, about his journeys in the fade, and what he knew of Corypheus. He had replied with enthusiasm only to be answered with an acknowledging hum, a nod of the head or a polite thanks as she moved on to converse with Dorian, with whom she shared stories and laughs. Her voice and laughter stirred feelings in forgotten depths he had locked away long ago. 

Solas had watched her then, intrigued, as he studied her interactions with the Tevinter and compared them with his own. Was it then? Or was it when Corypheus had sought to destroy her at Haven? He had fought by her side at Haven, impressed by her stamina. In the Chantry, when faced with defeat or death, she had volunteered to stand against the Red Templar army and Corypheus in order to give the people of Haven a chance to escape knowing there was little hope for her survival. Up until that moment he hadn't given her much thought. She was a Dalish elf who had stumbled into something she could not comprehend and it was his mark that saved her from the blast at the Conclave. But in that moment, her choice to sacrifice herself to save the people of Haven, he had looked at her with curiosity and admiration. It was because of that selfless move that he had volunteered to fight at her side as the army bore down upon the small hamlet. 

He, Cassandra, and Varric watched her back as she manned the trebuchets, fighting for time so the refugees could escape to safety. She fought tirelessly, arrow after arrow hitting their mark, as she pierced the armor of the Templars pressing against Cassandra and threatening to bring her down to her knees for fatal strikes. It had been Ma'alin that stood back to back with him and faced the corrupted Templars as they poured into Haven. She did not falter and she made sure she left no man or woman behind as Haven fell. In the end, it was Ma'alin who had pushed them out of the way of danger. He could remember her screaming at them to leave, get to safety, leave me! Then the dragon descended and separated them. He, Cassandra, and Varric had scrambled in the smoke and haze to make it back to the Chantry in safety. Cassandra did not want to leave the Herald and fought against him and Varric as they pulled her back, the dragon releasing it's full force upon the tiny elf pinned between it and the trebuchet. Corypheus had come and he had tried to reclaim the mark that did not belong to him. The last thing they saw was the Inquisitor running for her life before being blown into the air as the great dragon bathed the land in molten flames. They feared her gone, lost forever, another hero's name to be carved in the wall and forgotten. 

How wrong they had been. 

In the stillness of the refugee camp, Solas had felt her. He knew she lived. He had gone to Cassandra and Cullen, told them where to search. Both believed her survival to be impossible and their minds were on more immediate matters. Solas had withdrawn to the edge of the camp, settled before a fire, closed his eyes and entered the fade. He searched the eyes of the wolves in the mountains where he felt her the strongest. The wolves circled the edges of the deep valleys, darted through the tree lines, and tread the paths of men through deep snow and howling winds. At last, one had found her, a small frozen figure to the West slowly trudging through the drifts. A howl pierced the darkness as the wolf called out to his kin. With each step she came closer to being found and the wolves howled in unison as they called out to him. Solas thought of the relief he had felt, the tender warmth in his chest, as Cullen carried her limp body into the camp and laid her next to the fire. While they discussed what to do about her, Solas had massaged the heat back into her hands and feet, had laid glyphs of heat beneath her in the snow, and had sent for Mother Giselle to be there when she awoke. 

Perhaps, he thought, it had not been one place or time but the culmination of everything that had happened that had endeared her to him. It was not so much what had happened as it was how she had acted, who she was, when these moments happened. Time and again he had waited for her to disappoint him, to abuse the power she had been given, and yet he always found himself in awe of her restraint and selfless desire to help others. It shamed him to think of their first encounter in Haven. He had sat on the cold floor next to her unconscious body trying to remove his anchor from within her and caring not if it endangered her life. It was not a moment he was proud of. Now he felt shame at his thoughts he’d had when he first encountered her, the unknown elf who laid upon the floor of the cells in the Chantry, the Dalish bearing his anchor. His first thoughts were to retrieve the anchor, no matter the cost. It was his and he needed it. He had tried to pull it from her, to sever her ties to it and it’s ties to her, but was unsuccessful. He had entertained the thought of extinguishing her to retrieve it, selfishly thinking there was little to chance since she would probably die anyway, but there had been the nagging feeling of familiarity that stayed his hand. And curiously, he suspected it was the mark that had healed her and saved her life. He was thankful for his failure The world would be a much poorer place without her. And had he succeeded, he could have possibly killed the one person he now loved more than himself. 

For so long he had felt broken, shattered, with little remaining of the man he had hoped to be. He thought he could do this alone, that he needed no one, and that the sacrifice was worth the price he paid. He'd lost so much along the way that he'd stopped counting disappointments. But then she opened the door and invited him in to herself, daring him to deny the tie that binds them together. She had changed _everything_. She made sense of the pieces, made him feel like he had hope, made him feel all those feelings of passion, desire, devotion, and love that he thought he could never feel again. Everything that he thought he had lost, she had found and was piecing them back together. All he had to do was look in her eyes and know that he was hers, body and spirit. 

Solas wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her tighter against his chest. It did not matter when it happened, how it happened, or if it was meant to happen. The truth was that he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone and he would not let anyone take that away from him.  
__________________________________________

"Solasan....a prideful place" Ma'alin had glanced at him with an arched brow and questioning look. He shrugged. 

"Common name," he replied. She stood before the chamber door to the old temple, a place Solas had not seen in a very, very long time. The quest for the shards had led them here and the presence of more elven artifacts had not been lost upon the observant Inquisitor. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for the rest of them, they did not have enough of the shards to get past the first doors. They set up camp on the edge of the oasis, an alluring crystal pool with exotic plants and flowers that thrived in the mist of the towering waterfalls that fell from the cliffs overhead. Wildlife teamed in this area and Sera was taking great pleasure in chasing nugs through the water. 

Solas sat on the ledge that served as a half-wall barrier around the camp, looking down upon the sprawling pool. Blackwall snored in the tent behind him. Ma'alin had taken off her boots and rolled up her pants legs to wade in the water with Sera and pick some of the flowers to take back to Skyhold. She came to sit by his side, her arms full of freshly picked blossoms. She had gathered small blue flowers with rounded petals and white flowers with long pointed petals that smelled like fresh rain. She sat beside him, wordless and smiling, as she began to braid the stems of the flowers together. He pulled a book from his bag, found the worn page where he had stuck a dried leaf as a bookmark, and began to read. 

"Out loud, please” she said as her fingers nimbly braided the stems of the flowers in chains. Solas smiled to himself, turned to the page and began reading to her where he had left off.

“When first I summoned her, she was a rose,  
Unwithering, unchanging, and unthorned,  
A spirit of the purest love one knows,  
Who never hated, coveted, or scorned.  
A second time I drew her 'cross the Veil,  
And shared a walk, a dance, a stolen kiss;  
With such a perfect beauty, pure and pale,  
No woman could compare, no man resist.  
Then in my weakness I essayed a third,  
Tho' magisters their warnings did impart.  
She broke my binding with a single word,  
And said this smiling as she clutched my heart:  
"Though love I was, your passion's changing fire  
Has forged this spirit into cruel Desire." 

Ma’alin glanced at him curiously. “That is painfully sad. What is it from?”

Solas flipped back to the inside cover. “The Lover and His Spirit", Sonnet 126, from _A Chant for Dreamers_ by Magister Oratius.” She hummed her approval as she linked the ends of the chain together, forming a flower crown made of small blue flowers.When she was done she rose to her knees, leaned over and kissed his lips. She drew back with a smile as she placed the wreath of flowers upon his head, the leaves curving about his ears as the crown rested upon his brow. 

“Vhenan, no. This is ridiculous.” He reached up to remove it but she was quick and stopped his hand by pulling it to her and clasping it within her own. 

“Let it go, Solas. It is a simple pleasure and there is no one here to laugh at you. Well, there’s Sera, but who would believe her if she told them, hmm?” She smiled as she ran her fingers down his cheek and he sighed, shaking his head. 

“It’s still ridiculous. And undiginified.” His words were firm but he couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Yes,” she said, “undiginified, childish, and ridiculous. And yet, you’re going to wear it because I made it for you and _you_ love me. Besides, the blue suits you.” She was being coy and playful and enjoying her small conquest. Solas opened his book and continued to read as she chained together large white flowers in a wreath crown for herself and one made of the blue flowers mixed with yellow dandelions for Sera. 

Sera had been exploring the falls after being shooed away earlier for making gagging noises when she had caught Solas kissing Ma’alin’s forehead. She was an irritant and quickly got under his skin but she was growing on him, slowly. She was like a petulant teenager who thought she knew the ways of the world so he could not fault her for what she did not know. It was her willful stubbornness to not desire to know more that irritated him. He hoped, in time, he may be able to spark a desire for learning within her. 

“Ugh, are you two done yet? I want to have a bit of fun and it’s no fun tromping about by me onesies, is it?” Sera leaned against the wall in a huff and Ma’alin stole a chance to place Sera’s flower crown upon her head. Sera turned to her with a smile, straightening the wreath upon her mussed up hair. Then her gaze fell upon Solas and her lip curled into a smirk. 

“Sooooo, you and the Lady Inquisitor. Interesting. And don’t deny it, we’ve all heard, yeah.” Solas groaned inwardly. 

“Your interest is not my concern, Sera. And it’s private.” He gave her a stern look. 

“That's all right, because I meant _boring_. The elf always takes the elf so that banging bits will _mean_ something. And it’s not private if everyone hears the two of you rutting about, is it? Poor Cully-Wully can’t look at her without so much as blushing now. Although I have to admit I was curious myself and all but with _you_....bleh!”

“Sera, it is not a topic for discussion.” His words were clipped. She was beginning to really push his buttons now. 

“Oh, come on. Drop 'em and rebuild the empire. _Phwoar!_ ” She gyrated her hips and grunted for effect. 

Ma’alin laughed, not at all insulted by Sera’s jabs. “You're ridiculous, you know it?”

Sera’s face became indignant, irritated. “Not _me_. It's _him_! _And_ you.” She looked to Ma’alin and jerked her thumb to Solas. “I’ve seen how you look at him. You’re in it. Bet he calls out _‘Elven Glory_!’ when he does it, yeah?”

Solas narrowed his eyes at her, a warning to tread lightly. “Only one of us is looking foolish, Sera.”

She stuck out her tongue and made a suggestive gesture in his direction. “Oh, go twang your ears, old man!”

Solas smiled. “Have you ever had any interest in learning magic, Sera? While it has not manifested naturally, there are ways to determine whether arcane gifts lie dormant within you.”

Sera looked at him in horror. “What? Don't make me think about that. I have to sleep at night!” Solas repressed a smile. 

“Sleeping would give you the chance to explore the Fade. I could introduce you to spirits. I know _many_. They can come to you in dreams....”

Sera took a step away from him. “Stop it, you! You're messing with me on purpose!”

Solas leaned forward, feigning an innocent look and gentle tone of voice. “ _Why_ would I do that? It is not as though I know _who_ filled my bedroll with lizards.”

Sera let loose an awkward giggle. “Heh. Fair point! That was pretty good, huh? No spirits though...I’m watching you.” Solas smiled and returned to his book. He and Ma'alin had spent half an hour chasing lizards from their tent. If they lost sleep so could she. Turnabout was fair play.

Sera turned her attention back to Ma’alin. “Come ooooonnn, already. I want to go have some fun!” She grabbed the Inquisitor’s hands and began to pull her to the edge of the wall. 

Ma’alin glanced apologetically to him and smiled sweetly before jumping from the ledge to join Sera. Solas watched as they sprinted for the clear waters of the oasis several yards away under the shelter of the huge palms. He returned to his book, glancing at the girls every few moments, hearing Blackwall's soft snore drifting out from the tent. 

There were giggles and laughs bouncing off the walls of the canyon surrounding them as Sera splashed water at Ma'alin and fell face first in the mud while chasing a wayward nug. Ma’alin laughed until she fell to her knees in the water, clutching her sides and wiping tears of joy from her eyes. Solas smiled to himself. Moments like these were rare and sorely needed. There was little conflict here but once they got back to Skyhold the weight of the world would be on her shoulders again. Right now, splashing at Sera and calling for him to join her, she was just a girl enjoying time with her friends and her lover. He waved at her and held up the book that laid open in his lap as his excuse not to join. She stuck out her tongue, smiled wickedly, and returned to picking the pale white flowers that grew from the water. Solas withdrew a second book from his bag, a compendium of elvish and Dalish lore since the fall of Andraste and Shartan. 

The playful voices were fainter now, faded away to background noise. An occasional echoing laugh made him smile to himself. Solas turned the page. Minutes passed before he felt it, a niggling feeling that ate away at his attention. Something was off. 

The laughter had stopped. Solas put down his book and listened. Ma'alin and Sera were nowhere to be seen. Silence. No no no, even the birds had fallen silent. 

The scream echoed through the canyon and pierced his heart. He had heard that scream before, with her, in her memories in the fade. _Ma’alin!_

"Blackwall!" Solas yelled as he vaulted from the ledge and hit the ground running. Another scream in the distance and he heard Blackwall cursing as he sprang from the tent and vaulted over the ledge. Solas ran as fast as his feet could hit the ground but it was not fast enough. They had walked the canyon earlier, finding no danger, and the girls were unarmed. A loud thud shook the ground, causing Solas further alarm. 

Giants. 

Blackwall caught up to him in his hesitation and with another scream, that was Sera, they plunged ahead in the direction of the falls. Solas' heart was pounding within his chest, his breaths quick and shallow, eyes wide in fear. Blackwall was charging ahead like a bull, his sword at the ready. They crossed the far side of the pool and stopped short as they nearly ran into the legs of a giant that were the size of tree trunks. He could see Sera at the far end of the pool, hiding behind the wall of water as it poured over the cliffs. Solas instantly began to cast barriers and wards upon her, his eyes searching the scene for Ma'alin. Blackwall rushed in and rammed the back of the creatures leg, knocking if off balance. With one quick slash he had severed the monster's Achilles heel and sent it staggering. Solas yelled with primal ferocity as he cast ice blasts upon it's legs to hinder it's movement. Blackwall roared as he slashed the other heel of the beast and sent it sprawling into the side of the cliff headfirst. He was upon it before it could draw another breath, his sword making quick work of decapitating the beast. Solas threw down his staff and ran through the crimson stained water, looking wildly about for Ma'alin.

"Sera! Sera..." Sera stumbled from beneath the falls, her clothes bloodied and her lip busted. Tears fell down her cheek as she made choking cries. Solas grabbed her by the shoulders. "Sera, where is she?" Sera sobbed and pointed wordlessly at the falls. Solas passed her to Blackwall as he lunged through the waters. There were freshly cut white flowers, drenched in blood, swirling about his legs and a trail of blood that flowed from the falls. 

No. No no no. Not her...please not her, he thought, the panic welling up in his throat. He plunged through the pouring water to the small alcove where Sera had hidden. Ma'alin was laid upon the rock, her body half submerged in the swirling waters, blood pouring from her mouth. Solas fell to his knees beside her, hearing the sound of anguish that fell from his lips as if it came from a stranger. His hands reached for her, hovering, afraid to touch her or move her. 

"Vhenan... _Ma’alin_..." his voice was wavering and cracked. Everything in him felt so tight that he felt he would shatter and break into a million jagged pieces. His hands ghosted over her face and down her body feeling for breaks and damage. She was unconscious, broken, and barely breathing. "Oooh, Ma'alin, _please_ lethallan!" he cried but she did not stir. Blackwall came up behind him and placed a hand upon his shoulder tenderly, "Solas...we need to get her out of here. Let me..." 

" _No!_ No one touches her!" Solas felt hot tears stinging his eyes and a lump in his throat as he slowly and gently scooped her up in his arms. Blackwall put his arm around the sobbing Sera and followed them back to camp as Solas carried Ma'alin in his arms through the dark water. He looked at her pale face smeared with blood, leaned his head down to press his forehead against her cheek. He closed his eyes and winced at the coolness he felt there. No, she would be fine, he thought to himself. After all she'd survived she could not end like this. He would not allow it!

Solas carried her into her tent, laying her gently upon the bedroll. Blackwall had removed his cuirass and was tearing his shirt into strips to use as bandages. Sera sat by the fire with her head in her hands, still choking back sobs. Solas felt the anger for her carelessness welling up in his chest but reminded himself that it was Sera who had pulled Ma'alin from the creature's grasp to save her from any further harm. He grabbed vials of restorative potions from their reserve, instructed Blackwall to make a poultice from the elfroot, and stepped inside the tent. 

His heart fell in his chest to see her laying there, caked in blood and dirt, like a broken doll. He leaned down and took her hand in his, the mark a faint glow against her skin. It did not react to him this time as it had before. He brought her palm to his lips and placed a kiss against the anchor. "Please, my friend, you saved her before. I pray that you can save her now."

Solas ran his hands over her body, assessed several breaks in her small form. Ribs, calf, left shoulder, and fractures throughout. She did not wake, did not respond to his voice. Solas knelt beside her and wiped the blood from her lips with his fingers. His looked at his hands, stained red with her blood. The pain was too great to bear. His arms wrapped around his waist, his eyes clenched closed and the grief doubled him over as a sob racked his form and spilled from his lips. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth to contain his sorrow, a grief stricken moan escaping through his teeth. His chest felt torn open and empty and the darkness was threatening to swallow him. Not her, _please_ not her. It should have been me, why _wasn’t_ it me? I should not have let her go! He sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself. He had to think fast. He was not going to let her go without a fight!

Solas cut her clothes away, revealing a path of black and blue where the giant must have thrown her against the cliffside. There was no major external bleeding but the extensive bruising meant she was most likely bleeding internally. Quickly, he pulled a blanket over her and called for Blackwall. Together, the two men worked silently, bandaging her wounds and splinting the major breaks. It had been an hour and she still had not woken. Solas worked quickly to mend the most obvious injuries, his hands resting upon her midsection as he pushed his mana within, restoring as much as he could. After all the bandages were applied, Blackwall hung his head low. 

"If there's anything to be done, do it. I won't tell nobody." His voice was deep and gruff, weary and sorrowful, as if he had seen this many times in the past. 

Solas eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean, Warden?"

Blackwall's sad eyes met his. "I mean if there's something you can do, anything you can do, to save her...blood magic, spirit conjuring, demon worshiping...whatever it is you do Fadewalker, do it. I won't tell no one. And I'll make sure Sera don't neither." Solas studied the Warden’s face. He was in earnest. Solas nodded. 

"Ma seranas. Thank you, Blackwall. Take Sera, get to the last established camp we passed on the way here. They will have ravens. Get one to Leliana. Tell her to send help. Tell her I need Dorian and Cassandra. Go quickly, it will take several days for them to get here and we can’t afford to lose any more time.”

Blackwall nodded his head. “Maker guide you, Solas. We need her.” Blackwall grabbed his cuirass and stepped from the tent. Solas could hear Sera’s protests as Blackwall led her from the camp.

“No, she needs me! I can’t just leave her! I...I have to...I leave and she might be gone! Let go of me!” Solas watched through the open tent flap as Blackwall put his arm gently around Sera and led her away, speaking to her in soothing tones. Sera glanced back once more with a distraught look upon her face, her eyes red from crying. Blackwall tugged on her hand, told her the best way to help was to go get someone who could help her. Within minutes they both were horsed and galloping up the slope that led from the canyon floor to the road above. 

Solas realized his hands were shaking. He reached out to Ma’alin, running his hands over her small frame and sensing for damage. The major breaks and tears had been set and would begin the slow process of healing. What worried him now was the unseen damage. He could feel the increasing pressure in her brain, her thready pulse, and shallow breaths that gurgled deep inside with every breath. His mana was surging within her, restoring sinew and soft tissue, but it was not enough. He was still weak and it was not enough to fix the major damage that had been done. The best he could do was hold her together by keeping her in a state of suspension, keep the fluids from flooding her lungs, hold back the pressure from damaging her brain, and wait until help arrived. 

He knelt beside her, his hand tracing the lines of her delicate face, his fingers tracing over her closed eyes. His lips lightly brushing against hers as his tears fell upon her face. 

Solas closed his eyes and searched for the thread that bound them together, the familiar tug that always told him she was near. He reached and crossed into the fade, seeking her spirit for reassurance. 

Solas cried out in anguish, his cries echoing through the canyon until the unseen desert wolves in the distance answered with mournful howls. 

It was gone. He felt _nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To appreciate my amazing readers and followers I am doing a follower appreciation giveaway on my Tumblr. You must be a follower in order to win but there are some cool gifts in there for fans of "The Fox and the Wolf"! Good luck!  
> copy and paste - http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/116689308654/follower-appreciation-giveaway
> 
> Soundtrack for the latter half of this story is "Pieces" by Red.


	15. Solasan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. Real life gets in the way and this was a challenging chapter!
> 
> Solasan. The fade. Trickster Gods. A daring rescue mission. 
> 
> And a moment where I nod my head to Jim Henson's work "Labyrinth" because he's my hero and I can't do it any better than him.

For three days Solas sat in silent prayer. He did not know who to pray to, if there indeed was anyone to pray to, but ancient mantras fell from his lips as if thousands of years had not passed since he last breathed life into them. He sat with her, her fox pendant gripped tight within his palm until it left marks upon his flesh, her head resting upon his crossed legs as he caressed her hair. Her eyes were still closed, her lips still, and her spirit was so far away from him that he could not feel her. It haunted him, this sudden absence. He had grown so accustomed to the warmth and familiarity of her that the sudden absence felt like a missing limb, the phantom presence a constant reminder of the loss of feeling. She was gone, perhaps lost. Solas felt his chest clench in grief. 

Or just gone. 

He felt hollow. Weak. Once he would have been able to heal her,  summoning her forth from the fade with little effort. Death would have been a trifling obstacle to overcome. Now, with the veil in place, and the fade cut off from his physical touch, he was more than a mortal but less than the god he was once proclaimed to be. Could he still call himself Fen’Harel if he could not command the fade and the spirits within it? Could he still be the Dread Wolf when all that made him fearsome and powerful was diminished? He looked at Ma’alin’s still form and felt the hot stinging in his eyes and the tightness in his throat. 

I am Fen’Harel...the God of broken dreams and destruction. I am the one cursed to walk alone. I am a nightmare. I have failed the people. I have failed her. What have I touched that I have not destroyed?

He stroked her hair, brushed loose grains of sand from her collar. The back of his hand brushed across the curves of her cheek. He leaned down and gently placed a kiss upon her cool forehead, his lips whispering prayers against her skin. 

“Come back to me, vhenan. You are mine and I am yours. Where you go, I will follow.”

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of horses hooves galloping in fast. Solas laid her head down softly and threw open the tent flap, shoving the fox pendant into his pocket. The bright sun hurt his eyes as he heard voices calling out to him. He had asked for Cassandra and Dorian. He got the whole Inquisition.

Cassandra, Cole, Dorian, Blackwall, Sera, Iron Bull, Varric, and Cullen unhorsed and began to descend noisily upon his silent hell. Only Vivienne was missing, he noted. Cassandra and Cullen rushed first to the tent, Cassandra pushing past him with force only to stop in her tracks inside the tent. 

“Solas...is she...” she choked upon her words, her eyes wide in fear. Cullen pushed in to stand by her side. “Maker’s breath...” Cullen dropped to one knee at the side of the Inquisitor. Solas stood silent as they began to crowd the tent opening, all wearing expressions of fear and worry, sadness and grief. Solas knew they had expected to find her well, healing, and awake to greet them. Their shock was palpable in the still heat. 

Cassandra turned to him, took him by the arm and led him outside and away from the others. “Tell me everything.” Her voice was softer than usual, her words tentative and pleading. Solas told her of the attack, the injuries, the attempts to heal that had been mostly successful, and the silence that had followed. He told her of the unseen injuries that were slowly healing but not quickly enough. The others began to slowly gather around, listening. When the story was done, Cassandra was quiet. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes showing she’d had little rest in the past few days. They all looked road worn and exhausted.

“What do you need of us, Solas? What can we do?” Solas looked at the expectant faces around him. He had the feeling there was little they would not do for her if he asked them to. Solas began to explain his plan. 

Dorian and Solas would channel their mana into the Inquisitor’s mark and use it to weaken the veil, allowing easier access to the fade. Cassandra was needed to dispel the negative forces that could call forth demons while providing enhanced focus to Dorian’s spells. Cole would be the spiritual beacon, the lighthouse in the darkness, guiding them back once Solas found her to escape the fade. Cullen and the others would stand guard should the worse happen and demons break through the weakened veil. 

Cassandra considered his plan, eyeing him questioningly. “You mean to enter the fade and what…look for her?”

His hands clenched at his sides. “In a simple answer, yes. Sprits are not alone in inhabiting the fade. Spirits of the deceased pass through as well. It is possible for them to become lost, forgetting time and place, and lose connection to their mortal bodies. If that is the case, then I must find her.”

“And if she’s not there? What then, Solas?” she asked. 

“If not, then the Inquisition will need a new leader.” Solas turned from her and the others abruptly to quell the emotion building up within him. Before he could walk away, Dorian was at his side. “Walk with me, Solas.”

The two of them walked side by side in silence til they reached the edge of camp, away from listening ears. Dorian looked off in the distance, his eyes focused upon the rocky gullies leading into the oasis. 

“Do you really think you can find her? Tell me you will.” Solas glanced briefly to the side, seeing the worry in Dorian’s face masked with feigned indifference. 

“It is possible, although difficult. There will be spirits that try to trick her, to convince her that what she sees is reality.”

Dorian turned to him, his eyes glistening and his voice wavering, and grabbed Solas by the shoulders. “You bring her back, do you hear me? She’s…well, she’s the best of us. And she’s all I have. I suspect she’s all you have, too. You bring her back. If anyone can find her, it’s you.” Solas was caught off guard and looked at Dorian’s pleading eyes in stunned silence. Dorian surprised him further by quickly pulling him close into a forceful hug, his arms clenched around Solas’ shoulders in a tight grip before releasing him, leaving him speechless. Dorian sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his cuff, clearing his throat. 

“Let’s do this. We’re wasting time.” And he was gone, leaving Solas feeling baffled. 

Within the hour, they had gathered at the camp, moving Ma’alin outside the tent. It looked like a vigil for the dead, he thought. Cassandra dropped to one knee and knelt at her right side, her sword drawn and at the ready. Solas knelt to her left, Dorian standing at his side, his staff drawn and crackling with energy. Cole sat on the ground, Ma’alin’s head resting upon his crossed legs. Cullen and the others stood back, ready to wait out the process and act if needed. Blackwall held one strong arm around a sniffling Sera. Iron Bull was pacing back and forth, kicking at the dust with his feet in frustration. Varric sat on a makeshift stool, his head in his hands. Cullen rubbed worriedly at the back of his neck and snapped orders at the few Inquisition soldiers milling about. Solas and Cassandra exchanged looks. It was time. 

Solas nodded to Dorian who took a deep breath and then spread his arms wide and began to gather his energy, violet sparks igniting the air as the mana surged about him. Solas quickly cast barriers about Ma’alin, then returned to kneel at her side. Cassandra upended her sword and drove the blade tip into the ground, closed her eyes, knelt her forehead against the pommel of her sword as if in deep prayer and Solas could feel the pure, calming  energy beginning to emanate from her. He looked at Ma’alin one more time, memorizing the curves of her face, and took the hand that bore the anchor in his. The dull glow leapt once at his touch then fell dormant once more. 

“Forgotten. Lost. She struggles…she sees but does not see.” Cole broke the silence.

“Cole, do you feel her? Is she near?” Solas struggled to control the desperate tone of his voice. 

“She is gone, but she is near. Forgotten. Forgotten the girl, the people, the heart. Lies and shadows. She follows the wolf.” Cole’s eyes were distant, his words rambling with random images of visions seen by the spirits. 

“Gone where, Cole? Where is she following the wolf?” Solas felt a dark sense of foreboding. There was only one wolf, and it was not where she was. 

Cole swallowed hard and met Solas’ gaze. 

“A prideful place. Not alone, swirling darkness, they gather. They gather, drawn to the light that burns their eyes…grasping, gnashing, clawing, desiring, seeking to absorb. Extinguish!” Cole's voice was rising, panic setting in. Cullen drew closer, his hand upon the pommel of his sword, at the ready should things take an unexpected turn. 

“Who is there, Cole?!” Solas demanded, drawing the young man’s attention away from the fade. 

Cole’s pale blue eyes met his and he blinked once, coming back to the present. 

“You.”

Solas' blood turned to ice. “Dorian! Now!” he cried. Dorian’s mana surged within him, igniting his veins and welling within him. Solas pulled the energy from the anchor with as much power as he could muster and felt it’s resistance. The mark was no longer his despite it’s desire to respond to him. Solas reached deep within and pulled every bit of power he had to the surface and felt the veil crack. Not now, not here. Just a little bit more, he needed more to draw in the power from the fade. He could hear his own groans of frustration as he pulled at the barrier of the veil. 

“Solas! They’re beginning to push through! Cullen, demons! Be ready!” Cassandra’s voice rang in his ears, but she sounded a million miles away. Solas focused upon the anchor as it danced within the Inquisitor’s hand. 

He thought of the little girl with ivory hair. The burning aravels. The smell of smoke and ash. Solemn prayers to a trickster god in the wood. _“Dread wolf protect me”_ she had said. 

_ “Dread wolf protect me. Guide me.” _

_ “He was the only god who ever answered my prayers.” _

She believed in him. She counted on him. She prayed to the Dread Wolf and he heard her. 

More than that, he loved her. Adored her. Worshipped her. 

One last push and the anchor ignited and burst into blinding phosphorous flames that filled the air and split the veil, knocking everyone off their feet. Solas lost touch of her hand and hit the ground hard, rolling onto his back. His ears rang, his throat was dry, but the pain of the fall was curiously absent. He opened his eyes and saw great vaporous swirling clouds of green and black in the sky with amber light seeping through in muddied rays of dampened light. He sat up and looked around, gaining his bearing. 

In the distance he could make out the entrance to Solasan. Long, long ago this had been a home of sorts. That was another world. Now it was a tomb. The names of the dead were lost to those who did not know them. He had once known them as friends. Now they were dust. 

She follows the wolf, Cole had said. He knew where it would lead. 

 

_____________________________

 

Ma’alin awoke in darkness, feeling submerged in emptiness and silence, as if she were sinking into deep water. Then had come the whispers, the barely audible murmurings of unseen beings that swirled around her. She could not see them but she knew they were there, like the spirits in the forests that hide behind trees as they stalk the lone traveler, ever watching and waiting for a chance to make them their prey. She had curled up, drawing her knees to her chest, and prayed to the Dread Wolf to save her. Her arms clasped tightly around her knees, she rocked slowly, focusing on the calming rhythm. 

“Dread Wolf guide me. Protect me. Steal my fears, still my heart. Come to me…” her voice cracked as the emotion tightened within her throat. She swallowed hard. “Come to me, Fen’Harel. I pray to you, He Who Hunts Alone, hear your servant’s pleas. Deliver me from darkness. I will follow…” 

In the darkness a primal shape began to emerge, darker than the blackness that surrounded it, bright rubescent eyes illuminating the swirling wisps that danced about it’s feet. Ma’alin had wandered the darkness for so long, that even the faintest light was piercing and made her raise her hands to shield her eyes. The vaporous shape morphed as it came closer, the form of a great wolf taking shape against the darkness. It lingered in the distance, pacing, eyeing her with it’s hungry gaze. Slowly, she stood, and met it’s gaze. The wolf turned languidly and walked further into the darkness. Ma’alin cautiously followed. It felt futile to call out to it. A beast could not answer her. 

She lost track of time as she tracked the wolf, moments passing by like years in the darkness. Silent prayers raced through her mind. She wanted to believe this dark harbinger was sent by her God but she’d known the Dread Wolf to be snow white with haunting cerulean eyes. Something felt out of place. In the distance she could begin to see a faint golden glow that silhouetted the wolf’s form, framing it's jet form. 

The wolf slowed,  allowing her to close the gap between them until it was only a few steps before her. As they drew closer to the light, Ma’alin found herself standing at the foot of ancient stairs carved from stone and a great temple carved into the rock face. Braziers illuminated the temple in the darkness. The wolf climbed the stairs ahead of her, glanced back at her with it’s six ruby eyes, then disappeared through the open doors. She followed, stopping at the threshold of the door. 

This felt… _odd_. Familiar and yet foreign. She ran her fingers across the carved text that decorated the walls. She felt words with her fingers but the script was foreign to her. She could make out the S and an O followed by an A but the rest seemed blurred and felt too distant to comprehend. It felt familiar but she could not recall seeing any place like this before. She peered through the door and saw the wolf slinking into the inner sanctum. She was having a difficult time remembering anything before this moment. She could not remember how she had gotten here. She could not remember where she had seen this door before. She stretched her shoulders, took a deep breath, and followed. 

Crossing the threshold took her breath away! A strong icy gust of wind blew her hair back and caused her to stumble. She steadied herself by grasping the door frame. The wolf glanced back once more then disappeared into the sanctum. Ma’alin felt like she was being led not to salvation but into a trap.

Ma'alin followed the beast beyond the diverging hallways to the door that marked the inner sanctum. The door was ajar, and her fingers grazed against carved glyphs in the stone as she slowly pushed it open further and stepped down into the sanctum. The walls were covered in intricate carvings and woven tapestries. The stone depicted scenes of elves in battle, The Emerald Knights with wolf companions,  the elven pantheon, and spiraling towers that must have been Arlathan. The tapestries were in colors of green, crimson, and cream with golden threads. There were wolves, dragons, halla, and creatures she had never seen before. Ornately carved furniture decorated the room, chairs with deep cushions and lounging couches with carved feet. Everywhere she looked there were wolves carved into the woodwork. Many books and candles were spread about the room, papers and quills spread out atop a large table against the far wall. Someone spent a lot of time reading and writing here. 

The wolf crossed the room to a raised dais, ascending the steps as it's shape began to shift, it's vaporous form swirling and absorbing the light from the braziers. Ma'alin gasped and took a step back, finding the door closed behind her. Her hands searched for a handle, her eyes fixed upon the form, as it began to transform into a man. 

_No_. No no no. She grasped at the door behind her, unable to look away. The man's back was turned to her, his shoulders were broad and his frame was lithe and narrow. Long, chestnut hair flowed down his back, small braids intertwined through the length, and were bound with dark leather strips. His shoulders were bare, his skin tawny brown from the sun. She could not breathe. She desired, and feared, to see his face. His toned back to her, he tied a sarong around his waist, green with gold embroidery and similar to that worn by the Dalish warriors. He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, and her heart stopped. 

His eyes were violet and blue like glistening tanzanite gems. Dark eyeliner caressed his eyes, making his eyes seem luminescent. His lips were lush and stained with red wine. His face....Gods, his face! She swallowed hard, her breath ragged in her chest. 

I know that face. I _know_ that face! But I can't remember…Dread Wolf, help me! 

"Who are you?" she cried out. Her voice sounded frantic and foreign to her ears. He smiled wickedly and slowly began to walk towards her. 

Wolf and rabbit, she thought. He has that predatory look in his eyes. She had no bow. No daggers. No protection except for the spells that she suddenly could not remember. Why was everything so thick, so slow, and so hard to remember here?

The man stood before her, stopping close enough that she could feel his breath upon her skin. She backed against the door, unable to move further away. His eyes bore into hers beneath hooded lids, his lips pursed in a knowing smirk as his head tilted and leaned in closer to her. 

"Who are you?" she whispered . She had to tilt her head up to look at him. His jaw line was so sharply sculpted, his nose perfectly symmetrical, and his eyes slightly downturned at the outer edges. His skin was flawless, tawny, and his brows were like two dark brushstrokes that framed his eyes perfectly. His cheekbones were beautifully rounded and flowed into a long, lean cheek line that was the epitome of Elven beauty. His hair was shaved on both sides just above his long, finely shaped ears, leaving the center length pulled away from his face and cascading over his shoulders. She found it hard to breathe in his presence. 

"You know very well who I am." His hands met the wall on each side of her, caging her within and making her his captive audience. 

She shook her head. "You can't be. You can't...I know you."

He smiled and laughed, the sound was warm but hollow. "Do you? Then say my name." He was daring her, trapping her. 

"I...can't remember. But I know. You look different but I know your face." She felt so lost! As soon as the memory seemed near it was snatched away again! Something about him seemed so familiar!

He eyed her curiously. "Would you like a hint? I will take your silence as a yes." He leaned in to her ear, his lips brushing against her hair, his words hot upon her flesh.

"I am the wolf. I am He Who Hunts Alone.  I am The Bringer of Nightmares. I am The Eater of Souls. I am He Who Stalks Both Worlds...."

Her head began to swim. Her knees became weak. She looked down and realized her hands were grasping at his chest to steady herself. His lips moved against her. 

"...I am the one who hears your silent prayers. You've prayed to the Dread Wolf all your life. I am here to tell you, I hear you, vhenan." His hands came to her waist, long beautiful fingers wrapped around her form as he pulled her body against his. 

She moaned as he pulled her to him. It was a sound of fear, disbelief, and supplication. She wanted to believe. She wanted to drop to her knees and give thanks. She wanted to run in fear. She wanted to cry. To scream. To cling to him. To deny him. 

He brushed the hair from her face, his soft breath falling upon her cheeks, his body hot against hers. Something was eating at her, burning under her skin, gnawing at her feelings in this moment. Something about his face felt so hauntingly familiar. He was so beautiful it hurt. 

"The sly, cunning fox is speechless. She has no words for me? Can she only speak to me in darkness and danger?" His expression was coy and playful but everything about him told the hunter in her that he was a predator and this felt like a game of cat and mouse. 

"Fen'Harel. You are Fen'Harel." She looked him straight in the eyes and raised her chin in defiance of the doubt eating away at her confidence. His smile widened and his eyes danced. 

"There she is! There is the woman I crave! Yes, show me your pride. Show me the woman who defied the corruption of her people!" His voice was giddy and excited, his hands like a vice at her waist. 

"Why have you led me here? What do you want?" She spoke her words directly, pushing back against his chest as he leaned in closer, closing his eyes to smell her hair. 

"I want you. I want you to say you're mine. I want..." He leaned back to look at her, one hand coming to her face and grazing his knuckles along her cheek. "...I want you to stay with me always." His voice was rich and musical, and the sound of it made everything within her turn fluttery and warm. She couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity!

"You want me?"

"Yes. Only you." His hands ran up her back sending tingles up her skin. 

"You saved me."

“Yes. Many times.” He ran his fingers down her arm, lifting her left hand to his lips. Bright green sparks of energy surged from her palm and danced upon his lips as he pressed them into the anchor. 

"What is the price you ask?" His eyes lifted from her palm to meet hers, his lips reluctantly withdrawing, and his brow arched questioningly. 

"The price?" She had caught him off-guard. He was stalling. 

"You are the Dread Wolf. The Trickster. The Traitor. You always have a price. What is it? How can I agree to stay with you if I do not know the price?"

He released her, took a step back, and gazed at her hungrily. If she had phased him he had recovered quickly. 

"The price is small. So small."

He took her hand and led her away from the door to the center of the room. Releasing her, he placed on hand on his hip, the other coming to his chin in contemplation as he circled her silently. She watched him. He was so cocksure, so assured in her answer, he was dragging this out for effect. The anchor, which had been so quiet that she had forgotten it's existence, had been awoken by his touch and now it sparked wildly against her flesh, beating in time with her racing heart. Was she mad? No one toyed with the Dread Wolf and lived to tell the tale. He was her God, her salvation, her guide and her protector. He had saved her time and time again. He had given her hope when all the world had forgotten her. It was madness to question him and to doubt the sincerity of a God! But that face belonged to someone else.

Fen'Harel stood before her in all his beauty. He took her hand in his, the anchor sparking against him, and drew her in to him. She let herself be guided into his embrace. He pulled her close, his lips so close they ghosted over hers, his breath mingling with hers through their parted lips. His fingers dug into her skin at her back as he held her tight. 

"The price." she whispered against his lips, feeling them draw up into a smirk. She pressed the palm of her hand against his chest just above his racing heart. 

"Fear me. Worship me. Love me. Give all to me. Do as I say, and I will be your _slave._ " His breath was hot and his lips so close to hers that she could feel the energy between them. 

Her heart was in her throat, her breaths coming quick as her pulse raced. He brought her hand to his lips to once again kiss the anchor that danced within her palm. She swallowed hard, her ears ringing. 

"Say my name and I am yours,” she whispered to him as his sensual lips caressed her palm and sent tingling sensations down her spine. 

"Ma'alin, my little fox..." he murmured against her flesh. He raised up from her palm to claim her lips but he was stopped short by her icy gaze. 

"Wrong answer." His eyes met hers briefly in surprise before she slammed her palm against his chest, the anchor exploding with such forceful energy, that he was thrown backwards and slammed into the edge of the dais. Bright phosphorescent sparks arced from the mark, flooding the sanctum with blinding light, and she could taste the ozone in the back of her mouth. 

The man who would be Fen'Harel was morphing into a dark swirling mass with red eyes as she reached for the door and threw it open. She ran for the outer door, not feeling her feet touch the floor. A guttural primal scream echoed from the sanctum behind her, urging her on with a growing sense of panic. She had to reach the door! She had to seal it shut or risk being lost here, wherever here was!

Her hands grasped the handle on the outer doors and threw them wide open. She ran past the threshold and reached the staircase when a frigid blast of ice knocked her off her feet and she was surrounded by the sounds of primal screams that tore at her mind and made her lose her balance. She was spun around and saw the lights of the temple melting away, the staircase breaking up into tiny shattered pieces and falling up into the air. The shadows were rushing in as she began to fall, the darkness swirling around her as she began to sink into the depths of nothingness. 

______________________________________

 

Solas ascended the base of the stairs when he heard the scream that ripped through him. In an instant, all light from the temple had exploded into a million sparks and descended him into darkness. He fell fast, falling up into the vaporous clouds of the fade until he landed upon his hands and knees with a hard thump. The amber light cast slight shadows upon the ground. He looked about. The temple was gone. He was surrounded by the fade, with great broken pillars to long forgotten temples in dreams, and swirling masses of fractured lands. But something was different. Something that took his breath away.

He could _feel_ her. 

Solas stumbled to his feet and spun wildly, his eyes searching the horizon in the dim light. In the distance he could make out a faint green glow. The anchor! He took off running, tossing his staff to the side and hurdling himself into the darkness. 

"Cole! Speak to me!" he called out to the spirit on the other side. Cole would not come back to the fade with him but he was still so closely connected to it that Solas was able to hear him. 

"Too bright, shining in the darkness…they gather, clinging. So many eyes…darkness to swallow the light. Lost, she sees only what they show her. She sees lost souls where demons feast." Cole's words chilled him and spurred him to run faster, his eyes fixed upon the glow. 

Spirits that craved her power, the anchor, the ability to walk between worlds, would twist the fade and spin their lies to deceive her. They would drag her further and deeper until she forgot all that she was. Solas cried out to her, screaming her name. The mark was growing brighter and he could see her silhouette in the darkness!

"Ma'alin!" he cried in desperation but he stopped short as her eyes met his. She was beyond his reach and her eyes met his as a stranger. 

"Stay away from me! I'm warning you!" the anchor arced wildly as she held her hand out between them, illuminating them both in bright green fire light. 

Solas' heart ached. "Ma'alin....vhenan, _please_ , it's me. Solas. You have nothing to fear. I am here." Darkness swirled about her feet, creeping higher and higher, receding only when the anchor illuminated the shifting vapors. Her eyes were wide, the anchor holding him at bay even as it arced towards him. 

"Solas? Who are you? Why are you here?" she demanded. Solas held out his empty hands and stepped slowly towards her. 

"I am yours, vhenan. As you are mine. You were hurt and I've come here to bring you home. There are many awaiting your return. They need you. I need you." He searched her eyes for recognition. Her hand lowered slightly, the anchor no longer aimed at him. 

"Vhenan. You...no. Vhenan'ara. I see you. I see you in the veilfire. I see you in a memory where you don't belong. Your face. I know your face. It is the face of a trickster!" The anchor arced out to him quickly, sending Solas diving to miss it's impact. He hit the ground and rolled, coming at her from another angle, seeing the darkness swirl further up her body. 

"Ma'alin! Listen to me! Look in my eyes!" She met his gaze, the anchor barring him from coming closer to her. Solas held out his hands to her. 

"Ma'alin, I love you. You are the one who can render me with a word. You are the one that my world revolves around. You are the strongest person I know. You have a rare and unique spirit and it's light calls to the darkness in this place. Believe me when I tell you that you do not belong here! Your life awaits you on the other side and I am here to guide you back so you can live a very long life. A life that I pray you will spend with me so that I can spend my life making you smile. Nothing makes me happier than to see you smile. But I can't do that if you don't believe me. Please, vhenan. Come to me. Do not be afraid."

She had grown still, the anchor dropping to her side. 

"Solas?" her voice cracked. He dropped to one knee in silent thanks. 

"Vhenan. Come to me. Let me take you home." He held out his hand to her. She did not move. 

"Say my name." 

Solas searched her eyes. In his hesitation, she began to raise the mark between them again. 

"Ma'alin....Ar lath ma, Ivoriel. Come to me, please."

She dropped her hand, the mark dimming, and she took a ragged breath. Her eyes saw him as if for the first time.

"Solas! Where have you been? I don't know how long I've been here! Where am I?" Her words were frantic as she began to grasp the reality of the situation. 

"I will explain. First, we need to get you home." Solas stood and reached to her. She took a step forward but was suddenly pulled further away from him. 

"Solas?!" she cried. 

"I am here! Come to me, vhenan!" He reached for her as the darkness began to spin wildly, surging up her body, pulling her further from his grasp. 

"Solas, I can't see you! It's beginning to hurt! Something has ahold of me! I....Solas, so many eyes! They won't let go!"

"They?....No, do not look at them, Ma'alin! Close your eyes! Take another step! Follow my voice! Quickly!”

Cole's voice called out to him with urgency, intruding upon his thoughts. "Envy wants all. Sending darkness to swallow the light. Envy craves emptiness of soul…no, less of soul…Solas? Envy covets what Pride desires.”

Ma'alin was barely visible as the darkness began to engulf her. Her voice was distant, drifting away. "Solas...I feel so cold." 

"No! You can _not_ have her!" Solas drew upon Dorian's reserve of mana, felt the strength of Cassandra's focus, and used them to focus his energy upon drawing out the anchor, and dove into the darkness. 

A cacophonous explosion erupted from the anchor and filled the silence of the fade, sending great blinding arcs in all directions and opening rifts all around them. Solas felt the strong familiar tug that told him where to reach for her. His hands reached into the blinding light and made contact with her arms, drawing her in tight against his body as they fell together through the depths of the void. 

Solas opened his eyes and felt dull pain in his limbs. He was flat on his back. Bright sunlight overhead. Sound of crying all around.

_No._ Not her! 

Solas sat up quickly, his ears ringing. Cassandra was on her knees crying, her eyes red and streaming, Cullen and the soldiers were sheathing their swords, the remains of conquered demons evaporating and rising to return to the fade. Sera and Blackwall holding one another.  Varric comforting Bull as he hung his head. 

No! He spun on his knees, crawling madly to the center of the camp where her body lay. Dorian on his knees at her side, weeping into his hands. Cole's head down, his hands resting in his lap.  Solas' heart was breaking, shattering, threatening to burst at the fear of his failure. 

He grabbed her hand, pressing it to his lips as he raised himself to his knees at her side. Eyes closed, as before. _No._

No. He had failed. He placed her hand against his face, burying his face in her palm. Tears were stinging his eyes and threatening to spill over. He swallowed hard and held them back. 

Then it him like a fist to the center of his chest and his heart stopped. He could _feel_ her! Everything within him was reaching out to her!

"Solas?" Her voice! His eyes flew open and met her warm, sleepy gaze. He cried out, not caring who heard him, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. Softly, he brought his lips to hers and gently kissed her, breathing her in, relishing the sweet feeling of the strong pull between them that had been absent for too long. 

He pulled back a little, loathe to release her, her lips still close to his. 

"Vhenan" he breathed. 

Her lips curled in a tired smile as her hand reached up to caress his face. The sensation spread warmth deep within his chest and every fiber of his being called out to her touch.

"I knew you would come." she whispered. Solas' forehead met hers and he brushed his fingers through her hair. 

"There is nowhere you could go that I would not follow." he closed his eyes and breathed her in. 

They were an island unto themselves as the others began to hug, cheer, and cry out in relief and joy.  Cole lifted her head from his lap as Solas helped her sit up. As she sat up and leaned forward, Cole grasped Solas by the wrist firmly and leaned in to his ear.

"Envy wants what is yours. She has seen Fen'Harel. He wore your face." Cole released him and he was gone. 

Solas looked at the others to see if anyone else had heard. No one paid any attention to him, all flocking to the Inquisitor in their shared joy. 

There would come a time when he would have to tell her the truth. 

He was the Dread Wolf. He was Fen’Harel. He could still command the fade. 

Today was not that day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that noticed, yes, there was a HUGE nod to Jareth from Labyrinth in that chapter. 
> 
> You rack your brain and think, hmmm, what would an envious, trickster God say? And really, it just doesn't get any better than that line. It would be hard to improve upon the already existing angsty, fae, coy, sexy brattiness that is the Goblin King! He has such demandingly direct dialogue. It fit this scene perfectly.
> 
> Not going to even pretend that I don't see a lot of Jareth in how Fen'harel is portrayed.


	16. These Stolen Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally very different, and upon reading it again, I was very unhappy with it. It has been rewritten and I hope it is more true to the characters and story line than the previous effort was. 
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

Ma’alin spent the next two days surrounded by her companions, the hodge podge group of people who made the Inquisition feel like home. Dorian brought her salty broth to soothe her insides. Bull brought her ale that burned like fire to “make her feel alive” which prompted Dorian to bring more broth after her coughing fit. Varric kept them amused in the evening with tales of Hawke and their adventures in Kirkwall. Blackwall kept guard outside the camp with Sera who was angrily raining arrows down on anything that came close to the camp that was bigger than a nug. Cassandra kept a watchful eye over Ma’alin, ensuring she needed for nothing. Cullen had left in the night after receiving an urgent letter from Leliana.

Solas, her Solas, never left her side. He tended to her remaining wounds, bathing her in healing washes of soothing mana. She hurt all over but the pain was lessening with each passing day. His hands were tender, affectionate, and caressed her lovingly as he helped her sit up. He closed the flap to their shared tent, picked up a bowl of water and kneeled by her side. He pulled a vial from his pocket and poured it into the bowl, swirling it with his finger. It smelled medicinal and made her scrunch her nose. His eyes met hers and he smiled. Pulling another vial from his pocket, he opened it and mixed it into the water. It was her peach and jasmine.

“Where did you…?” she asked.

“I must confess, I borrowed it a while back. This was not the purpose I originally borrowed it for, but it will do well in masking the scent of the elfroot.”

Solas pulled back her covers where she lay nude. His eyes trailed over her body lovingly. “Lean forward, please.” Ma’alin leaned forward, grasping her knees. Solas dipped a large sponge into the bowl, wrung out the sweet smelling water, and began to gently scrub her skin clean. Rivulets of dirt and dried blood ran down her arms like rain flooded rivers.

“How bad was it, Solas?” She could feel a sharp pain at the base of her neck where she was sure she was going to have a large scar. Solas moved to scrubbing her arms.

“You need only to take a look at the number of people here to know that it was a dire situation. Fortune has smiled upon us though. There will be some lingering pain in the next week but I expect you to have a full recovery.” His hands traveled over her chest and torso, washing away the last of the blood from a wound that no longer existed.

“Thanks to you. If not for you I have the distinct feeling I wouldn’t be here.” She watched his face as he continued the scrubbing, his expression unreadable. “Solas, look at me.”

His eyes met hers and glistened with emotion. “Your thanks is not needed, vhenan. You would have done the same. Now, roll over, let me get the backside.”

She stretched out on her stomach, his hands running the sponge down her legs, over her hips, and across her bottom. When he was finished he toweled her dry, rubbed the knots in her back and legs to release the tension, then helped her stand to dress. They would have a long journey back to Skyhold and the others were already breaking down camp to leave. She and Solas would ride together to lessen the jolt of the ride upon her body. It would be a long three day ride.

After they mounted their horses they navigated their way out of the labyrinthine Oasis. She would be happy to never see it again. She rode behind Solas, her arms wrapped around his waist, his right hand resting atop hers while he guided the horse with the reins in his left. When the horse traveled rough terrain he would give her hand a squeeze, acknowledging the stabs of pain that coursed through her body with each jarring impact. Blackwall remarked upon her amazing recovery as his destrier saddled up next to theirs.

"You seem to be riding just fine. It would seem our man Solas here is quite the healer. We could have used more of your like back when I was a soldier, Solas. Could have saved a lot more good men." Solas quietly thanked him. Blackwall looked at her and smiled warmly.

”Anyway, we're glad you're back, Inquisitor. Ain't none of us the same with you gone. Your man went to hell and back to rescue ya. That makes him alright in my book. Treat him well, my lady.” With a wink and a nod of his head he spurred his horse and rode on. She smiled, wrapped her arms tighter around Solas' waist, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. Maybe she was imagining it, but she could have sworn he was sitting taller and prouder in the saddle. He squeezed her hands and took a deep breath, his heart beating against her ear.

Three days they rode as such, exhausted but enjoying each other's company and shared closeness. At night they stopped to make camp, too exhausted to consider anything but sleep. Solas carried her to their tent, tucked her into her blanket and pulled her tight against his body, burying his face in her hair. He hummed to her softly, songs she'd never heard, as she drifted off to sleep. In the morning there were soft, hazy kisses on her neck to wake her and his low, throaty voice in her ear calling her vhenan. They packed their gear and loaded up again.

When they arrived at Skyhold she was whisked away from his arms almost instantly on urgent matters that could not wait. Josie and Leliana had ushered her to the war room without hesitation. She barely had time to look back over her shoulder to see Solas standing alone in the hall.

Leliana and Josie had stayed at Skyhold to tend to matters, answering frenzied correspondence as rumors flew of the Inquisitor's death, and putting out political fires when word reached Orlais that the Inquisition had fled Skyhold for the West. So much for secrets.

"Inquisitor!" Josie had rushed to her as soon as she stepped into her foyer, throwing her arms about her shoulders and nearly toppling them both. She stepped back, eyes wide, assessing for any damage. "Are you hurt? Are you hungry? You must be famished! I will wake the cooks and order you a bath. Anything you need..." Ma'alin gently wrapped her arms around her frantic friend and drew her in a tight embrace. "Josie, I am fine, thank you." Josie's body relaxed against hers and she let out a deep sigh.

Josie pulled away, straightening her sleeve and regaining her composure. Josephine looked just as exhausted as she felt. "I am glad, so very glad. I wish we had better news to welcome you with but there is so much discord to address." Ma'alin nodded. "In time, Josie. It will all be addressed, I promise you. What do we have that can't wait until tomorrow?”

The war room was disastrous. Too many inquiries to answer, too many matters that needed to be addressed immediately, too many factions vying for power when it was rumored that she had died. It would take days to sort all of this out.

Political requests had piled up in her absence, one even from King Alistair regarding a Venatori threat. That was handed to Leliana. More Venatori in Nevarra mixed in with the nobles. That was best handled by Josie. Cullen’s soldiers were dispatched to the Dales for assistance with spreading the word that the civil war had ended and to root out the bandits pillaging there. They spent hours going over all that needed her immediate attention. Now her head throbbed as she leaned against the great table. "Please tell me that is all. For the love of Andraste, you would think Thedas would tear itself apart without the Inquisition.”

Cullen glanced to Leliana and they shared a look before she slowly shook her head. Ma'alin eyed them both. "Oh for the love of...what is it?" Cullen grimaced and cleared his throat with a dry cough. "We've received a letter from the Lavellan clan."

Her heart sank in her chest and her mouth suddenly went dry. So that was the letter he received at the Oasis. ”What does it say?"

Cullen pulled the letter from his vest. "There appears to be some trouble with bandits raiding the clan, too many for them to handle. They have supplies missing, food looted, and livestock stolen. They are asking for our help."

"They? Or the Keeper?" She knew the answer but she wanted to hear it. And she was certain there was more to the request than just help with bandits.

"It's signed by Keeper Istimaethoriel." She took a deep breath. Even after all this time, her Keeper continued to rule the clan. She wanted to be cold, to be indifferent. But there were innocent men, women, and children in that clan that were ruled by her iron fist and were innocent of her machinations.

"Leliana, send your agents. I want to know who dares attack the Dalish without fear of retribution. Make sure at least one of your delegates is Dalish. I want their eyes and ears open. There will be clan members looking to leave the group if given the chance. Promise them safe passage and refuge at Skyhold if they wish to leave."

Leliana looked at her curiously. "As you wish, although I doubt that the Keeper would appreciate us leaving with her people."

"Then conscript them for the Inquisition. Tell her we need able bodied men and women here to bolster our numbers." Ma'alin could feel the tension in her neck and rubbed it absentmindedly, a habit she normally attributed to Cullen.

Josephine looked nervously at Leliana and Cullen, then to Ma'alin. "And the children? How are we to justify conscripting children into the Inquisition?"

"The children go with their parents. The orphans are ours as well. They do not belong to her. Besides, children can fish and sew, help with chickens, apprentice with the tradesmen. They will find refuge and training here."

Leliana nodded. "I will make it so."

Ma'alin nodded. "Thank you. Now, if we are done for the day, I'm going to retire. It's been a long day." Leliana and Josie walked out together, side by side, discussing preparations for the Inquisitor's errand. Cullen lingered behind, slowly gathering his papers, glancing cautiously at her. His papers gathered, he strode around the great table, passing her by, then stopping. His back to her, she saw him take a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sinking in defeat. She leaned against the table and waited for him to speak.

"We were told you wouldn't make it, were probably already dead by the time we received the raven." His voice was thick and his hand clenched at his side. He turned slightly, the angles of his face aglow in the last rays of sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows. A sharp inhale of breath hissed in the silence before his words fumbled out quickly "I'm glad to see you. I mean, it's good that you are well and back home, if you call this place home, that is. I need....we need...you. You are our best hope. When I...we...thought we lost you..." A flustered sigh escaped his lips and he looked tortured. It broke her heart to see him so.

Ma'alin stepped towards him, wrapped her arms around his waist, stepped into his arms, and pressed her cheek against his chest. Cullen stood still and silent for a moment until his body relaxed. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek against the top of her head, his warm breath settling in her hair.

"I don't want to think what it would be like without you here, Inquisitor. I know it's probably wrong of me to say that, but friends can say that to one another, can't they?" Ma'alin squeezed him tighter and nodded her head.

"Yes, Cullen, friends can say that. A real friend would say that." He must have been holding his breath because a large sigh whispered over her hair. She pulled away, Cullen slowly letting go as she stepped back. "Get some rest, Cullen. It's been a long few days for everyone."

Cullen gave her a small smile, his face flushed. "Good night, Inquisitor." He turned on his heel and strode out of the war room with purpose.

Ma'alin waved to Josie as she passed her desk, quickly walking to the great hall, eagerly heading to Solas' rotunda. She reached the wooden door and quietly pushed it open, stopping when she heard voices. Faintly, she could hear Dorian and Solas' voices wafting through the doorway.

"That would make you a somniari, is that correct? Imagine that. I've read about them, even met one from the magisterium, but I've never seen one actually enter the fade. And to think, you can shape the fade. I would never have imagined it possible to use the power of the anchor. How did you manage it?"

Ma'alin peaked her head in and found Dorian languidly leaning against Solas' desk, Solas perched in his high back chair, his chin resting upon his steepled fingers.

"The anchor is a complex energy that we know little about. It is Elven, yes, and while the Inquisitor wields the power we should consider the possibility that she is a vessel for the power rather than a wielder of it. "

Dorian frowned. "That has serious implications should she ever fall into the wrong hands, Solas. If Corypheus can do what you did, use it for his own will, the threat to Ma'alin is..."

Ma'alin pushed the door open and leaned against the doorway. "Am I interrupting something important? Tell me you were discussing something racy and wicked." Both men looked at her, faint smiles upon their faces.

"Completely debauched, I promise you. Can you not see the flush of Solas' ears?" Dorian smirked as Solas shook his head.

"I assure you, Master Pavus, there is little you could say that could surprise me." Solas pushed a paper across his desk and fixed his gaze upon Ma'alin.

"Challenge accepted." Dorian purred, noticing the lingering gaze between the lovers. "I think I'll head to the tavern. It's been a long day. You two appear to have...matters to address, yes?"

Ma'alin smiled. "Yes, we have matters to discuss. In private." A small smirk pulled at Solas' lips.

"Yes, I'll leave you to it. Good night, Solas. Good night, Inquisitor. Don't do anything I would do." He gave her a quick kiss upon the cheek and swaggered out of the rotunda, calling out to Varric to join him in the tavern.

Ma'alin looked at Solas and felt the fluttering in her stomach. He sat silent, still as a statue, looking at her warmly.

"I need you" she said. It was an invitation. He stood from his chair and crossed the room until he stood before her, one hand resting against the wall as he leaned into her.

"You need no one" he purred. She felt the gravity between them that drew her closer to his lean frame.

"I want you" she looked up at him playfully from beneath her lashes.

"Hmm" he hummed, leaning closer, "I want you. But you should rest.”

She fingered the wolf jaw pendant between them. “I need you, Solas.” She needed to feel the tangible connection to him, to try to forget how alone she had felt without him.

His fingers trailed through her hair, pushing it away from her eyes. “I did not think I could care for you more, Ma’alin. I was wrong.”

He bent to grasp her legs behind her knees and swept her up into his arms in one fluid motion. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she nuzzled into his shoulder, breathing him in as he carried her through the great hall. He ascended the stairs to her chamber with little effort. Reaching the landing, he carried her to her bed and gently sat her upon the edge, dropping to one knee to remove her boots.

“Solas, you don’t have to do that. I can…” Solas brushed her hands away from the laces.

“Allow me.” Her boots set aside, his fingers began fumbling with the buttons at her collar. "Too many damned buttons." He growled beneath his breath. She raised her hands to help when she heard the first button pop off and roll under her bed. Solas paused for only a second before pulling the jacket open, sending buttons flying in every direction.

Ma'alin frowned. "That was my favorite shirt, you know." Solas slid the sleeves down her slender arms and threw it behind him.

"I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you ten of them." His fingers went to work on the laces to her breeches.

“Keep this up and you’ll have to be the one to explain to Josie why I need a new wardrobe.” She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor. Solas stood before her, her fingers working to free his laces on his breeches. She slid the worn material down his hips, over the curves of his thighs, and his breeches slid away to the floor. She traced her fingers up his lean thighs, the sharp v of his hips, and the toned muscles on his abdomen. His skin shivered beneath her delicate touch. With a knowing smile, she leaned forward and placed a kiss above his navel on the flat of his stomach. Her hands slid to the back of his thighs, running her fingers over the smooth, taut muscles. His breath hissed when her kisses began to trail down to the chiseled v of his hips. She felt bold, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and his reaction to her touch was making her desire him more.

Her right hand curved over his ass, drawing him in closer. With her left hand she caressed her palm down the length of his member, drawing a small moan from his lips. She grasped his length in her fingers, applying gentle pressure from the bottom of the shaft to the tip and back down. His hands reached out to her, tangling his fingers in her hair. Ma’alin’s lips kissed the tender flesh below his navel, taking her time in exploring her lover. Solas’ hips bucked when she kissed a ticklish spot.

Her hand stroked him, eliciting another moan from his lips. “Say you want me, Solas.” His eyes fluttered closed as she blew a warm breath over the tip of his erection.

“I want you more than anything.” His fingers mussed her hair as he raked them through the ivory tendrils.

“Say you need me.” she whispered, her lips kissing feathery trails down the inside of his thighs.

“You are wicked, you know?” he growled, fighting to control himself. Ma’alin smiled to herself, enjoying her power over him.

“You love me. Say it. You need me.” She ran her hand up the base of his member, circling her fingers around the girth and stroking him slowly from root to tip.

“You are everything I want. Everything I need” his words were husky, heavy with emotion and desire.

Ma’alin placed a kiss upon the tip of his member, eliciting a gasp from his lips as she took him in her mouth. She lathed her tongue around the tip of his erection, running her fingers up and down the length of his shaft in slow, firm strokes. His skin was smooth against her lips, flushed with heat, and slick from her mouth. She pressed her tongue up against the bottom of his tip and sucked at the tender flesh. Solas let out a loud, gratifying moan, leaned his head back and sank his fingers deep within her hair as he clung to her. Spurred on by his reaction, she took his length in her mouth, sucking and caressing with her tongue, stroking with her hand and holding him close as she grasped his ass in her other free hand.

She could feel his muscles rippling beneath her touch as his hips arched in an involuntary roll. She began to stroke him faster, firmer, her tongue pressing against him. Solas’ fingers pulled her hair from her shoulders and gripped the length in a loose ponytail with his right hand and pulled it away from her face so he could look at her as she was going down on him. His left hand cupped her jaw, caressing her face with tender strokes from his thumb. Ma’alin met his hungry gaze and a deep growling moan escaped his lips as she took in his length again, steadily holding his gaze as she sucked and stroked him with increasing pressure.

His moans had become heaving gasps, his body was tightening beneath her touch. He was close and she was euphoric with the fact that she could pleasure him so. She tasted the first drop of sweet saltiness against her tongue and Solas reached down to still her hand that stroked against him.

“Vhenan, you don’t have to…” He was going to pull away, save her from his release. Her lips left his erection, kissing the soft tip, as her eyes met his.

“Allow me, Solas. I want to please you as you have pleased me.” His eyes were dilated, his ears flushed. He gave a slight nod and then a seductive smirk crossed his lips.

“You are relentless.” His words were chastising but playful.

“You like me that way,” she purred, and took him in her mouth again. She worked circles around his tip as she sucked him and caressed his length with firm pressure. It only took a few firm strokes of her tongue to bring him to the brink again, his every muscle tightening beneath her touch. His moans turned to groaning gasps, his breaths raspy and heavy. She hummed against his member, drunken with the pleasure of pleasing him, and it sent him over the edge. A loud moan fell from his lips and his body tightened as he arched back, eyes closed, moaning her name. The sweet saltiness flooded from him and down the back of her throat, the strokes of her hand and the lathing of her tongue spurring him on. His body shuddered with orgasmic convulsions until he was spent, the release rippling through his body as his body relaxed in her hands. She slowly caressed him with her tongue, delicately running her fingers down the length of him, drawing out the sensation.

Solas hummed in appreciation and contentment. Taking her hand, he pulled to stand before him, wrapping his arms around her tightly and burying his face in her neck where he placed heated kisses against her flushed skin. His lips moved to her breasts, cupping and sucking them each in turn, blowing cool breath against the wet skin and eliciting small gasps from her. She was already turned on and the slightest touch from him felt like ecstasy.

Solas pulled her breeches down then lifted her to the bed, crawling up between her legs until his eyes were level with hers and his member pressed hard against her sex.

“You are wicked…” he smiled, teasing her. His fingers traced the vallasslin across her cheek and his eyes turned tender, glistening in the candlelight, staring into hers intently. He always got that look when he was touched by something that moved him deeply.

“…and I don’t deserve you.” There it was. Even with all his confidence and self-assurance, there was a part of her lover that always made him feel unworthy of her love and affection.

“Solas, look at me. Do any of us deserve happiness, Solas? Those who truly deserve happiness rarely find it. And even fewer are actually made happy when they do find it because of doubt, the fear that we don’t deserve it. These are stolen moments, vhenan. Neither of us knows how long this can last. Embrace the joy where you can. Let us love one another while we can because I love you, you stubborn, beautiful man. I love you. I want no one else but you.”

Solas pressed his forehead to hers, his breaths ragged. His voice was strained as he choked back his emotions. “Ar lath ma, my relentless, bold, Inquisitor. My fox. I want no one but you.” His lips met hers and kissed her tenderly, deeply, pulling her under his spell. She gasped aloud as he flooded her with cool waves of his mana, the raw power pushing within her and igniting the fire within her. He raised her left thigh to wrap around his waist.and gently he inserted himself inside her, moaning at the hot slickness that greeted him. Solas sheathed himself within her, his heat filling her with a delicious feeling of contentment.

They made love for hours, showering each other in affection and adoration. It was a hungry joining. It was love, lust, desire, adoration, euphoria, and ecstasy. If was a celebration of being reunited; his a primal need to reclaim the lover he feared he had lost. Solas patiently took his time with her and her still healing body, using gentle caresses and strokes mingled with his powerful mana to please her until her body was limp in his arms and her energy spent. Exhausted and euphoric, the lovers laid back in each other’s arms, the moonlight spilling upon their entwined bodies from Solas’ beautiful glass skylights overhead. She laid her cheek against his heart, the steady cadence lulling her into deep relaxation. His breaths were slowing, a sign he was drifting off to sleep.

She whispered quietly to him, knowing he would not hear her. “I am yours as you are mine. I will never love another as I love you, my wolf.”

An unsettling thought started to emerge from the haziness of her exhaustion. The white wolf that answered her prayers, her wolf Solas, the wolf jaw pendant, the beautiful Fen’harel with her lover’s face, the dark wolf with six red eyes, and the man with red eyes who haunted her dreams…visions that swirled together and became muddied in her exhausted thoughts. It was gone, sunk back to the depths of her consciousness, just as quickly as it had come. She would need to try to remember this tomorrow or…later….there was something there that seemed important a moment ago.

She drifted off to sleep in his arms, dreaming of the white wolf with cerulean eyes and the nights they spent in the woods, her face buried deep in it’s fur, as it guided the small child away from death. Her savior had smelled of cloves, dried leaves, and earth and she had laid next to it, listening to it’s heart beat beneath her ear as it watched over her in the night.

She embraced the wolf, kissed the top of his head and stroked his thick fur. “My wolf” she whispered, “ar lath ma, vhenan.”

In the morning when she awoke, she could not remember what she was not supposed to forget.

And she found herself alone in her great bed.

Solas was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I've established a Ma'alin and Solas headcanon page with links to character profiles, tumblr asks and requests, and picture links. If you have questions or comments please feel free to message me.  
> http://cyran9.tumblr.com/Maalin&Solas


	17. Tel'abelas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas learns of Leliana's plan to send her agents to assist Clan Lavellan. 
> 
> Infused and empowered ever since using Ma’alin’s mark, the Dread Wolf is back! A foot in both worlds, he once again stalks Thedas. 
> 
> Warning for violence, but not too explicit.

Solas woke early, kissed Ma’alin’s forehead, and slipped down the stairs to raid the kitchens for fresh fruit and sweetened cream for her breakfast. Solas had found fresh raspberries and sun ripened peaches that smelled like his lover’s perfumed oils. He tucked the bowl of fruit under his arm and lifted a crock of cream from the larder, tip toeing across the great hall, when he came face to face with a flustered Leliana.

“Master Solas, pardon me. Is the Inquisitor awake?” She was always pert and to the point. Solas noted the letter in her hand.

“I’m sorry, she is not. Is there a matter I can help you with?” Leliana’s eyes narrowed for a moment as she weighed some decision. Having reached some consensus, she handed him the letter. It was roughly milled, not mass produced and the ink was made of soot.

“This letter arrived in the middle of the night. It is the second letter we have received from Clan Lavellan addressed to the Inquisitor and asking for immediate assistance regarding bandits. The situation appears to be rapidly escalating.”

Solas looked over the letter carefully. Where Leliana saw an urgent request for help, he saw veiled threats. “...if you do not help us, there will be dire consequences for the Inquisition....if you do not come, there will be a price to pay...as the future Keeper of this clan....you owe me, da’len...” Solas clenched his jaw.

“I assume you are sending agents to Wycome...”

Leliana’s brows furrowed. “Actually, the Clan is no longer _in_ Wycome. They have been on the move and they are on the coast, just East of Val Chevin.”

“Val Chevin?” Solas was genuinely surprised and taken aback. “If that’s true, they have been on the move since...”

“Since Ma’alin was named Inquisitor. Yes, I thought of that as well. I want to know for what purpose. They are treading dangerously close to some of the major ports for illegal slave trading. That’s a risky chance for the Keeper to take.”

Solas wondered just how far the Keeper would go to bring Ma’alin back under her influence. Sell her people? He believed her possible of anything.

“I assume you will be sending agents?” he asked, knowing the answer. “If so, allow me to join them. I believe I may be able to assist the Keeper in resolving her problems without involving the Inquisitor. She has more important matters to attend.” He looked the letter over once more. Val Chevin...that was a two day journey from Skyhold. She had a lot of nerve.

Leliana nodded. “I am pulling agents from Lydes. They will not receive orders in Lydes until tonight. If you left today, you would be one day ahead of them.”

Solas nodded. “I will leave within the hour.” Solas snuck into Ma’alin’s room, set her breakfast on the night table, and sat at her desk. Grabbing paper and quill, he wrote her a quick letter, folded it and placed it upon the pillow next to her where he slept. Solas sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers down the length of her ivory hair. He leaned over and gently placed a kiss upon her brow. She mewed in her sleep and he pulled back, caressing her face.

“Dream of me, vhenan. I will dream of you.” He was loathe to leave her but he needed to leave before she woke or else she would not let him go.

Within the hour, Solas was packed and leaving Skyhold on a horse borrowed from the stables. He rode until Skyhold was out of sight, dismounted, unbridled the horse and set it free. He tossed the reigns into the ditch, dropped the learner’s practice staff he lifted from the armory, and left the road behind him as he headed into the thick forests.

Ever since he had used Ma’alin’s anchor, his lost power, he felt invigorated. His magic felt stronger than it had since he had awoken from uthenera. His mana thrummed in his veins with anticipation, and he was itching to test a theory. Solas began to run, no holding back. His legs extended in great strides, his arms pumping at his sides. His breaths were steady despite the exertion. The trees passed him by in a blur. He pushed until his muscles began to burn. He grunted as he began to feel winded. He put his head down and pushed harder. His breaths began to grow ragged and he yelled out in sheer effort. Almost there....his skin was beginning to tingle from the weakening of the veil around him.

Almost there!

He could feel it, coursing through him, tingling and burning with sweet fire! He laughed out loud and pressed himself harder. The veil began to tear around him, viridescent wisps forming around his body as he pushed further against it. With one final push, his mana surging within him, he broke through it’s barrier. Suspended in a moment that felt like eternity, Solas the man once again had one foot in the present and one foot in the fade, his spirit walking in both worlds, and he surrendered himself to the form of the Dread Wolf.

The vaporous visage of the jet-black wolf raced through the forests like dark flames devouring dry kindling, his six rubescent eyes burning like lanterns in the darkness under the canopy of the trees. He ran with abandon, reveling in the sensation. It had been a millennia since he last walked Thedas as Fen’harel, physically inhabiting the body of the dreaded fade wolf. He had walked these steps in dreams, finding Ma’alin and answering prayers of the desperate, but inhabiting the wolf in spirit paled in comparison to becoming the wolf and feeling the ground rise to meet him.

The smells of the forest were richer, denser. The sounds of the animals and the creatures of the forest rang in his ears like a favorite symphony. Racing through the trees, Solas realized he had company. A pack of wolves howled in the distance. Within a few steps they had joined him, falling in step and keeping pace, together they carved a path through the woods. At this pace, he would reach Val Chevin a day early, ahead of Leliana’s agents.

That night Solas slept in a dense thicket, the moon shining bright overhead, amidst the familial pack of grey wolves that had run with him. The next day the pack continued on with him until he reached the outskirts of Val Chevin, spotting the elven aravels in the distance. Solas released his hold on the veil and removed the mantle of the Dread Wolf. The elven apostate stood at the edge of the woods, surrounded by a pack of wolves eager to follow him. He knelt before the Alpha, a scarred matriarch with one black ear, and ran his fingers through her thick ruff at the base of her neck.

“Thank you, my friend. If I need you again, I shall call.” She nudged his hand, licked it once, and then turned and withdrew into the woods, her pack following close behind. Solas stood and watched them go. He turned towards the aravels, pulled his hood up over his ears and set out to meet Clan Lavellan.

  
“Andaran atish’an, stranger.” The words spoken by the spindley mage were welcoming but there was caution and distrust in his eyes. Solas glanced about him, seeing the many hollow, vacant eyes that watched him curiously. This clan was quite larger than he expected.

“Aneth ara, my name is Solas. I am here on behalf of the Inquisition. I wish to speak with your Keeper.” The mage turned to look behind him and gestured to the others hovering around the aravels. A broad shouldered man with olive toned skin, and dark brown hair stepped forward and strode towards them. Solas noted the dark green vallasslin of Dirthamen upon his face and the sword strapped to his back. Solas felt rage begin to ball in the pit of his stomach.

Thalenn, Ma’alin’s betrothed and next in line for Keeper, the one who’d struck her again and again. The one who promised her death and took his half-brother to his bed. Solas swallowed his anger and fixed a pleasant countenance upon his face.

There was a special place in the void for those such as Thalenn.

Thalenn strode confidently up to him, stepping into his personal space and squaring his shoulders to assert his dominance. _Fool_ , he thought, _this is a dance you can not lead._

“You seek Keeper Istimaethoriel? Who the fuck are you?” Thalenn may have been handsome once but the sour expression upon his face, his broken nose, and the broken capillaries upon his face belied the darker facets of his spirit. He was as charming as he was handsome, Solas noted.

“I am here on behalf of the Inquisition, sent by Inquisitor Lavellan, to answer your Keeper’s request for help.”

“Inquisitor Lavellan? Is that a joke?” Solas did not laugh. “Fine, you will follow me. You talk to no one without the Keeper’s permission, do I make myself clear, flat-ear?”

Solas held Thalenn’s menacing glare and did not flinch.

“Crystal.” he smiled. _Ass_ , he thought, as Thalenn led him past aravels badly in need of repair. Solas noted the warrior’s plump frame was in sharp contrast to the clan members shuffling about who had lean frames and hungry eyes. He noted that he did not see any children or elders. That was not natural. Solas clenched his jaw and followed Thalenn to a large tent at the rear of the camp.

Keeper Istimaethoriel greeted him at the entrance to her tent, rather icily. “I was expecting Ma’alin, not some lackey.” Solas nodded in acknowledgement. He noted two elven women in the back of the tent, one was dicing venison while the other brewed what smelled like herbal root tea. Both women looked half-starved with dampened spirits. Neither would look at him.

“Ir abelas, Keeper. The Inquisitor is indisposed. I speak for her.” The Keeper looked him up and down, her disapproval written upon her face.

“And who are you to our Ma’alin, da’len?” Her words were smooth but her tongue had an edge sharp enough to leave scars. He could not remember the last time someone had dared call him ‘da’len.’

“I am an ambassador, of sorts. I have full authority to assist you in any way you need. The Inquisitor regrets she could not be here personally.” The Keeper eyed him cautiously then gestured for him to sit. Solas knelt upon the mat. The Keeper knelt upon the mat opposite him, Thalenn standing watch at the door. One of the women, obviously a servant, sat a mug of tea before the Keeper.

The years had not been kind to the Keeper since he last saw her. Her face was deeply etched with wrinkles, her skin leathery from the sun, and her posture was beginning to stoop. Solas noted the dark spots upon her hands and the yellowing of her teeth. She looked far more advanced than her years. Time was not kind to the corrupt, he thought. She drank deep from her steaming cup, her eyes never leaving his.

“I had hoped Ma’alin would return to us. She is to be the Keeper of this clan someday, and she has responsibilties here.” She was direct. Deceitful but direct. That would shorten this dance.

“Pardon me, Keeper, I notice your clansmen look lean. And yet you and some of the others do not seem to suffer hardship.” Her eyes narrowed.

“What are you insinuating, da’len?”

“Simply noting that you must have been short on supplies even before the bandit raids.” he answered nonchalantly.

“And yet you bring us no supplies, despite our urgent requests.” She was becoming irritated, her brow furrowed. Solas repressed a smile.

“I come to offer you something better. Safe passage to Skyhold for your people and a place for them in the Inquisition.” Solas felt hungry eyes upon him, the Keeper’s servants shuffled about, pretending not to listen but hanging on his every word. The Keeper was fixated on him and she bristled in anger.

“We do not desire the life of your shem-loving Chantry sycophants. If that is all you have to offer, you can leave.” Her eyes blazed with unspoken anger. She awaited his reaction and got none.

“Such insolence. We ask for assistance and Ma’alin sends us an empty-handed _flat-ear_ with no valasslin, no clan, and no respect for the Dalish. Dread Wolf take you and your damned Inquisitor. Get out of my sight.”

Solas rose from the mat, catching the eye of one of the servants and nodding in acknowledgement. “Ma serannas, Keeper Istimaethoriel. Should you change your mind, I will be camping just east of here at the wood line.” He bowed politely and turned to leave, stopping at the entry to the tent. He looked over his shoulder at the woman watching him like a hawke.

“May I say, I find it curious that you are more concerned with having your First returned to you than you are in mentioning these bandit raids that have been plaguing your people.” His tone was light and taunting. His only answer was scowl from the Keeper and a rough shove from Thalenn in the middle of his back.

Solas took the brunt of the shove and smiled. “Dareth shiral. May we meet again.”

“Leave, flat-ear!” Thalenn bowed up to him again. Solas acquiesced, giving the appearance of compliance.

“As you wish.” He turned from the pudgy warrior and walked through the people, seeing pain and fear in their eyes. He nodded to them, meeting their stares, and watched them look away nervously.

Solas reached his small campsite, lit a large fire, and waited. Dusk came, the sun setting behind the makeshift Dalish camp. Dusk turned into night. He sat patiently.

A twig snapped behind him in the darkness of the trees. Small feet came closer.

“Andaran atish’an, friend. Come closer.” He called out to the darkness. A small woman stepped forward from the tree line. It was one of the Keeper’s frightened servants.

“You wish to speak with me? Come closer. I will not harm you.” Solas stood and held out his hand, beckoning her closer to the fire.

She glanced behind in hesitation before taking a step forward. “I dare not, I may be seen.” Solas walked to the tree line, leaning against an old tree to block any view of her from the camp.

“Then let us talk here, as friends in secret. Do you need help?” he asked her tenderly.

“We need help.” Her lip quivered and her hands shook. “Do you truly serve Ma’alin? Does she really wish to help us?” Her eyes bore into his, seeking hope.

“I do, and she does, da’len.” he answered.

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she grasped his hands, her fingers shaking. “They took my daughter! The Keeper sold them, and the men came....they took our children!” Her voice cracked as she choked out the words. Solas held her hands tight within his, his voice calm and soothing.

“Where is she? Where are the children, mother?” Her tears streamed down her face.

“Val Chevin, on a ship. They are holding them there. The ‘price of disobedience’ she said! It’s a slave ship. Ma halani, hahren! Ma halani!” Her whole body shook like a leaf in a storm. Solas released her hands and gripped her shoulders, holding her up.

“Where are your elders, da’len? I see no elders in your camp.” The woman lost her strength and collapsed to her knees. Solas caught her to lessen the blow. He knelt before her, and pulled her to his chest, holding her until the shaking began to lessen.

“Ssshhh. No harm will come to you here. Now tell me, what has become of your elders, lethallan?” She took deep breaths, her cheek pressed against his chest. Once her sobbing had stopped she pulled back and balled her hands in his shirt.

“Gone. The first to go. They spoke against her, denounced her nephews Thalenn and Rin. When they could not be silenced, when the people began to question her...exile, she said. But I know better. I saw the trenches; smelled death in the wind. Gone! Ma halani, serah!”

Solas closed his eyes against the pain eating at his core that gnawed at him like a ravenous beast. If he had not been here he might never have believed it. Wild creatures did not treat their kin the way this Keeper treated her people. Solas cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and looked into the distraught woman’s eyes.

“I will help you, mother. Tomorrow, the Inquisition comes. Go back to camp. Spread the word to your people to be ready to leave.”

She grasped his wrist firmly. “Our children?” she pleaded.

“Leave that to me, mother. You will see your children again. Now, go, quickly before you are missed.” He watched the small woman scurry back into the woods.

He doused his fire and started for Val Chevin.

Dawn came swiftly and the first rays of light found the Dread Wolf standing amidst a pile of bodies strewn about the deck of the slaver ship. The crew of “The Bounty” would never sail again.

Solas blasted the lock to the hold and slipped down the worn steps. How many slaves had taken these stairs before him? Never again, he swore. He dropped down into the darkness. The sound of scuffling and cries reached his ears as his eyes adjusted. He pushed past the inner door and found the hull lined with cells. The damp, decrepit cells held the many children of Clan Lavellan.

Small children clung to older children no more than ten summers. They were thin and dirty but otherwise unharmed. Solas knelt next to the nearest cage where the eldest children were being kept together.

“Do not fear me, I am here to help. Ar lasa mala revas, I am taking you back to your families. I need you to be brave and keep the young ones close. Understand?”

A small girl gripped the bars in her tiny hands and peered through, her eyes meeting his. “Who sent you?” she asked quietly.

“My sweet child, the Inquisitor, Ma’alin of Clan Lavellan, bid me come to help you.” The children crowded the bars to come closer to him. The small girl gripped the bars hard.

“If you are a friend of Ma’alin, we will follow you.” Solas swallowed the emotion that welled within his throat. If Ma’alin could only see the weight her name carried with these people, the mere utterance of it a symbol of hope. Solas smiled reassuringly, nodded his head, and went to work.

One by one he blasted the locks and the children were freed. The older children worked together to carry the babes and hold the hands of the smaller children. A small dark-haired boy carried a little girl to him, his arms too weak to carry her and she too weak to walk. Solas knelt and scooped her into his arms, her small body curled against his chest, her red curls laying across his neck. Her little arms wrapped around his neck and clung to him for reassurance. He took one last look throught the cells to ensure they were all accounted for, then he led the children from the blood stained boat.

Solas walked slowly to keep the children close together, keeping to the outskirts of the city to avoid attention. Solas and the children slowly approached the camp. From a distance he could see the banners of the Inquisition. From the looks of it, Leliana had sent many agents in preparation for bandit raids. The children began to run to the camp ahead of him.

Cries rang out in the distance. The mothers and fathers of Clan Lavellan fled the camp with outstretched arms to find their children, falling upon their knees and clinging to their lost babes. Solas was met with a wild eyed young woman no more than twenty with dark red hair. She cried out as she reached for the child in his arms. Gently, he handed the child to her, and she fell to her knees while covering the small toddler in kisses.

“Merri! Merri! My Merri!” Solas knelt before her and touched her shoulder.

“She is unharmed, da’len.”

“Ma serannas! Ma serannas!” she sobbed as she held her child to her breast. Solas nodded, caressed the child’s dark red curls, then left them to their happy reunion.

The Inquisition agents greeted him at the edge of the camp. “Master Solas...I did not expect to see you here. I see you’ve already done some of our work for us.” The man gestured to the children pouring into the camp. He was one of the sergeants from Skyhold. Solas had seen him before, training in the courtyard with Cullen’s men. Good fighter, a seasoned soldier, and a natural leader.

“Sergeant, these people are coming with us. They need safe passage to Skyhold.”

The sergeant nodded. “Those were our orders and I will see it done. We are prepared to take all who wish to go. We ran into some trouble with the Keeper and her men. We’ve detained them in the tent back there. What should we do with them?”

“Thank you, sergeant. Ready these people for travel. I will deal with the Keeper and her people.”

“Aye, sir. May I say, sir, you are a good man. I am proud to serve the Inquisition.” Solas placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.

“The Inquisition is lucky to have men like you, sergeant. Good work. Let’s get these people to Skyhold.” The soldier beamed with pride. Few things made a man feel pride than genuine appreciation, especially when it was well-deserved.

When the last of the aravels were packed and the halla tethered, the Inquisition waved a final farewell to him and began their escort of the Dalish from the camp. No one elected to stay behind with their Keeper.

Solas stood at the entrance of the tent and watched as the men, women, and children of Clan Lavellan rode away with the soldiers of the Inquisition. If he did nothing else worthwhile in his life, he could at least claim this one small victory. Solas watched until the aravels disappeared on the horizon with the setting sun. He turned his attention to the Keeper who knelt on the mat behind him. Her nephews, Thalenn and Rin in their matching Dirthamen valasslin, bound and gagged behind her. Solas could not get the images out of his mind of this dreadful duo torturing Ma’alin, kicking her, bloodying her and leaving her in the dirt. And her Keeper, denying her love and affection, abusing the trust only a child can bestow in their innocence.

“I wonder, Keeper, how one transforms from the protector of a clan to the one who enslaves, and murders their people?” He knelt before her and removed the gag from her mouth, staring into the hate flaming in her eyes.

“You are not one of the people, _flat-ear_. You do not understand our ways. You do not understand what it takes to keep these people alive! Duty! Obedience! Sacrifice!” she spat the words with venom on her sharp tongue.

Solas tilted his head and looked at her curiously. “What do you know of sacrifice? You sacrifice your people while you risk nothing. You murdered your elders when they questioned you! You sold your children to slavers to punish their families!” Istimaethoriel turned her head away to not look at him. Solas shifted his position and got into her face, his eyes holding hers as his anger flared.

“Do not look away from me again, Keeper.” His voice became a warning. “I want to know what kind of woman takes in an orphan child only to use her, abuse her, and deny her a life of love and compassion so that she may serve your own selfish purposes? No answer? Perhaps you can explain to me how you justify the rape of a young girl to make her obey you? No? Nothing?” Solas rose to his feet and turned from her, his anger seething, and his jaw clenched. If he had hoped for any answers, any explanation, he would find none here, not that any excuse could wash away her sins. He looked to the horizon, to the settling of dusk and the rising of the stars. He sighed heavily. There was nothing here worth redemption.

“Twenty years ago I brought you a child to care for. I believed she belonged with your people. I was wrong. Ivoriel deserved better. I failed her. You failed her. And yet, despite all that's happened, she thrives.”

“Ivoriel is a liar. She is the daughter of lies and deceit.” she said angrily. “And who are you to speak to me in such a way?”

Solas turned to her with a smug smirk upon his lips. “That is the question, is it not? Now tell me, how do you know she is the ‘daughter of lies and deceit’?” The Keeper fell silent, considering her next words.

“I knew her father. Anth’elan. A descendant of Clan Sabrae.” Solas noted the hint of jealousy and scorn in her words.

“I get the feeling you knew him well.” he said, noting the scowl upon her face at the implication.

“Aye, a liar and deceiver. He was my betrothed until he ran off with Ivoriel’s whore mother. The apple does not fall far from the tree.”

Solas thought of the carnage left in the wake of the annihilation of Ma’alin’s clan; the burning aravels, the burnt bodies. He had seen memories of Orlesian soldiers, heard the screams, but now he could remember there had been no halla in the death toll, and no survivors taken as slaves. No, it was worse. It had been betrayal, the Orlesian soldiers were simply the scavengers after the initial slaughter.

“You destroyed the clan. It was you that had them murdered.” It was not a question. It was a fact. Ma’alin had been orphaned because of this hateful, jealous, jaded woman. She raised her chin in defiance but did not deny it. "No wonder your clan was so close to the carnage and yet had not been touched. Is there no end to your depravity?"

“You’ve had your fun, flat-ear. You can make up whatever fairytales you want if it amuses you. The truth remains, your Inquisitor is a traitor and a fraud.”

Solas laughed out loud. “How could a heart as depraved as yours comprehend truth and goodness?”

The Keeper became enraged. “How dare you! You insolent, uncultured, flat-ear with no clan and no pride, who do you think you are to address me in such a way?!”

Solas smirked and chuckled to himself. “Now, _that_ is a good question.”

Solas rose and moved to Thalenn, removing his gag. “I am the one who hunts alone.” Thalenn’s eyes went wide as they followed Solas. He removed the gag from Rin who began to curse him.

“I am the roamer of the beyond.” The Keeper began to fidget with her bonds at her wrists. Solas knelt behind her and cut the rope. She recoiled from him. He swiftly cut the bonds on Thalenn and Rin, the latter who dove for his legs, but Solas easily side-stepped him, and Rin landed face down in the dirt.

Solas dropped to his knee, grabbed Rin by the hair and pressed his knife to his throat before Thalenn could rush him. The warrior growled at him, ready to pounce at any moment. Keeper Istimaethoriel clamored behind him for protection. Rin groaned as Solas pulled his head back at a sharp angle, exposing his jugular to his blade.

“Tsk, tsk. Watch yourself, Thalenn, lest you find yourself less a brother and a lover.”

Keeper Istimaethoriel stood, grasping a staff she’d found, and pointed it at Solas, it’s violet energy crackling around her. Solas pressed his blade further, the first drops of Rin’s blood splattering in the dirt.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Keeper. But, on second thought, _please_ do.” He smiled as the knife dug deeper into Rin’s flesh.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Thalenn screamed in agony.

“I am the Bringer of Nightmares,” Solas growled, “and in this moment, I am Vengeance.” With a deft caress of his blade, Rin’s throat sliced open, his breath gasping from his throat as the blood sprayed out, bathing Thalenn and Istimaethoriel in his blood. Thalenn’s screams echoed all around as he clamored to the body that Solas dropped upon the dirt floor, the blood muddying the ground around him. Istimaethoriel rushed him in a blind rage, her kin’s blood running down her face, and Solas blasted her back with little effort. She landed upon her back at his feet. He towered over her, this depraved woman who represented everything he hated about this world, Thalenn still screaming as he tried to pull Rin’s body outside the tent. The Keeper looked up at him with wide eyes, fear finally beginning to register upon her face. She crawled to her hands and knees before him.

“Please, have mercy, stranger. Help us. I was wrong, but I did it all for the love of Thalenn. Please, have mercy, help me. Give me a chance to make it up to her, please?” She begged at his feet, a thief who was not in the least bit sorry that she stole but very, very sorry that she had been caught. She disgusted him.

“I _am_ the Dread Wolf.” he snarled in disgust. “And when did I ever say that _I_ would help _you_?”

Istimaethoriel cried out in terror, she turned from him and struggled to get on her feet. Solas caught her fast, pulling her to him in a vice grip until their faces were inches apart and he could smell the fear on her.

“I am reminded of a promise that Ivoriel made to you the day you named her your First, and promises are important to keep, are they not?” She shook her head vigorously, her pupils dilated in primal fear.

“If you do not remember, let me remind you, because it is a Keeper’s responsibility to remember, is it not? Yes, yes it is. Ivoriel promised you that the Dread Wolf would come, and when he did....” she fell still and silent, holding her breath, the realization beginning to dawn on her face. “Yes, _now_ you remember, don’t you. And when he did, he would eat your heart.” He leaned into her ear and growled menacingly.

“I heard her prayers. Your day has come.” Solas released her and she fell to her knees, speechless with fear.

Wolves began to howl from the treeline, drawing close to the abandoned camp.

“Run, Keeper. Take your kin, and run. I’ll give you the mercy you seek and give you a head start. Then, you’d better pray to a shem god that can hear you that you can outrun the wolves at your door.”

The Keeper grasped at Thalenn, bidding him to run. He clung to Rin’s body and would not let go. With a desperate cry, she released him and began to run away towards the distant lights of Val Chevin.

Solas walked past Thalenn, his sobbing screams drowning out the sounds of the advancing howls. Solas walked leisurely from the tent, following the Keeper’s tracks. He glanced back only once, hearing Thalenn’s screams turn to cries for help as the wolves descended upon him. The savagery only lasted seconds before the matriarch ripped out his windpipe. Solas continued his pursuit.

Within minutes he had caught up to the Keeper at the crossroads outside the city, and the wolf pack had caught up with him quickly. They were still giddy with their fresh kill, and fell into step with him in his casual pursuit.

“Keeper, your time has come.” he called out to her. She turned to look at him, expecting Fen’harel to be closing in on her. What she found was the Dread Wolf, with flaming rubescent eyes, lunging upon her with a score of grey wolves. Before she could react she felt the teeth upon her neck that brought her to the ground, her flesh being ripped on her legs and arms, and vicious snarls filling her ears. She tried to scream but was silenced by teeth at her neck and the sudden blackness of the void as all went silent.

Solas stood silent in the aftermath, the carnage appearing like an oilslick upon the ground in the dark of night. The wolves had taken what they wanted and retreated back to the woods. In his hands, Solas held the Keeper’s heart, all that was left of the woman who had raised Ma’alin and tortured the people she was sworn to protect.

Solas stared at the torn arteries that hung between his fingers and thought of the death and destruction this heart had wrought upon others, of the lack of compassion it did not feel. Flames began to engulf it slowly in his hand, his mana surging to fuel the fire. In seconds it was charred and popping from the heat. Within minutes it had crumbled to ashes under his gaze. Solas opened his palm to the wind and the ashes rained to the ground.

Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan was no more.

“Tel'abelas,”he whispered. _I am not sorry._

Solas began to hike back to the main road. If he traveled through the night, he could catch up to the Inquisition soldiers and their refugees.

Howls rang out through the night as the Dread Wolf raced through lands not walked by Fen’harel in over a thousand years. The song of the wolves echoed under the night sky, heralding his return, and spurring him on as he raced to return to the woman he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven translation - 
> 
> Tel'abelas: "I'm not [sorry].
> 
> Ma halani: "Help me"
> 
>  
> 
> FYI, I don’t do outlines. I start with a general idea, start writing, and see where the characters take me. 
> 
> Let me tell you, I’ve been on a Solas rollercoaster with this chapter, and he broke my heart. I was cheering him on, feeling his pain, and trying not to cry. He really surprised me in this chapter and I’ve surprised myself with the path this chapter went down. I hope you won't be too angry with me for the twist on Clan Lavellan.


	18. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has their moments of weakness, their moments of doubt; moments when they question themselves and whether or not they have the ability to make the right decisions. I can't imagine how a young woman can shoulder the burdens of the world, and of a faith she does not believe in, without having moments of panic and doubt.
> 
> Add to this her feelings of separateness from her own clan members and it makes for a bit of an emotional time bomb.

Ma’alin paced restlessly back and forth across the war room. She felt sick with worry. When Solas had left he left without warning, leaving only a letter on her pillow.

Vhenan, I regret I am not there to kiss you upon waking. That is my favorite part of the morning. Leliana will be bringing you a report about Clan Lavellan. Their requests for assistance have become increasingly worrisome. I’ve taken the liberty of joining Leliana’s agents and will meet them in Val Chevin. I shall return soon or send word. Until then, dream of me. Ar lath ma, Ma’alin. 

~S

That had been three days ago. Ma’alin had barely slept since then, burying herself in her work and drowning in worry. Solas and the clan, knowing what he knew? Disastrous. She rubbed the heels of her hands in her tired eyes, feeling the burn of the exhaustion behind her lids. She was beyond tired. Sleep had evaded her, her dreams haunted by fleeting visions of the Envy demon pursuing her, Fen’Harel leering at her, and a pack of starving wolves devouring the stars. There had been little word from Leliana’s agents other than they were escorting clan members to Skyhold. That had been over a day ago with no further word.

She blinked hard, her eyes refocusing as the rays of sunlight spilled through the windows and across the war table. She stared at one of the markers on the table, a generic mage figure, placed upon the spot that marked Val Chevin. Where was he? Why hadn’t he sent word? She should have heard something by now! The door creaked behind her.

“Inquisitor...” Josie called to her. Ma’alin pressed her palms flat against the table and clenched her jaw.

“Josie, summon Bull, Dorian, and Cassandra. We’re leaving for Val Chevin within the hour.”

“Inquisitor....” Josie sounded hesitant. Ma’alin felt frustrated and let out a heavy sigh. She felt like she’d been kept here long enough and she was tired of waiting. Not even Josie would be able to subdue her this time. The anchor sparked at her frustration and twisted darts of pain up her arm. She rubbed her palm against her forearm, pressing against the pain and soreness.

“Josie, please...I’m leaving. I can’t sit here a moment longer worrying and...”

“ _Inquisitor.”_ A soft, tender voice answered her and her heart stopped. She spun on her heel to face it. Solas stood next to Josie in the doorway. A small cry escaped her lips when she saw him. She ran across the hard stone floor, seeing only his face. He held out his arms to her as she leapt and clasped him in an embrace, her arms around his neck and her legs locked around his waist. Solas held her tight as she eagerly pressed her lips to his, kissing him hungrily. The anchor sparked wildly in his presence but she felt no pain. The fingers of his left hand cradled the base of her neck and pulled her closer into the kiss. The soft click of the door signaled Josie’s retreat from the room, leaving them alone with one another.

Ma’alin pressed her forehead to his, breathing in the scent of his skin. Cloves, dried leaves, and old parchement. His earthiness enveloped her and she breathed him in deeply, relishing the comforting feelings that washed over her.

“You’ve been gone too long from me, vhenan” she whispered against his lips. He had a smile upon his lips as he kissed her once again.

“I ran as fast as I could to get back to you.” That made her laugh as it was hard to imagine him running anywhere. She slid her legs down his sides until her feet reached the floor, his strong arms holding her tight against him.

“You were missed, Solas.” She traced her fingers down the right side of his face, trailing down his neck to his pendant. Solas brushed the hair away from her face.

“As were you, Ma’alin.” His voice was tender with longing and his eyes were fixed upon hers, devouring her with his gaze. Butterflies fluttered within her and she felt flushed. She could hide nothing from his penetrating gaze.

“I’ve brought you a gift.” He took her hand in his and gently tugged her towards the door.

“A gift? What is it? You still haven’t told me where you’ve been or what happened!” Solas guided her from the war room and towards the hall.

“In time. First, you must see this.” Solas led her through the great hall, past the courtiers fervent whispers and heated discussions. He opened the great door and led her to the stone veranda that looked out upon the courtyard of Skyhold. He wrapped around one arm around her waist and stood behind her. He pointed to the gates of Skyhold where scores of refugees were flooding into the infirmary in the lower courtyard accompanied by Inquisition soldiers.

“Solas....” She squinted to see against the bright sun. There were so many! Solas squeezed her hand.

“Clan Lavellan, Ma’alin. They have come at the invitation of the Inquisition.”

She gripped the railing hard and searched the faces in the crowd. Yes, she could see now, their faces becoming clearer. There was Ossa, Lethvan, Vella, Halin, Ma’reval, Elsan, and Mila’san with their families. If they were here....she scanned more frantically. She didn’t see Lanvel. Or Rin. Or Thalenn. Or the Keeper. And the elders....where were the elders?

“Solas, where are the elders? Where is the Keeper?” She turned to him for an answer. His jaw clenched and he looked past her as voices began to call out from the courtyard.

“ _Ma’alin! Ma’alin!_ ”

“ _Inquisitor!_ ”

“ _Ma’alin!_ ”

“ _Ma serannas, Ma’alin!_ ”

She spun to face the courtyard as the voices grew louder. The refugees were beginning to gather in the lower courtyard and all eyes were upon her.

“ _Ma serannas!_ ”

“ _Ma’alin! Ma’alin!_ ”

The elves of Clan Lavellan stood out among the other refugees, their hands reaching up to her. She had never been allowed too close to them but she knew their faces, knew their names. It had been so long since she had seen them, they felt like strangers now, ghosts of a past life. She let her feet guide her when Solas gently nudged her to the stairs. She descended slowly to the courtyard, her name ringing in her ears. It was all so surreal. When she reached the courtyard there were hands upon her, touching her arms and shoulders, the elves of Clan Lavellan closing in around her. Words of thanks and tears of joy welcomed her. It was disconcerting and it was quickly becoming overwhelming. It was too much! Her heart began to race, her ears began to ring. It took her a moment to realize they were no longer calling out her name. A chill went through her.

“ _Keeper! Keeper! Keeper!_ ” they began to chant.

“Bless you, Keeper Ma’alin!” a man cried, and others began to join in.

Her head began to swim. No. _No no no NO_. She pulled away from the hands reaching out to touch her. No! Suddenly she felt trapped and it felt hard to breathe! Everything was beginning to spin.

She pulled away from the people around her, pulling her hands free from their grasp, breaking through the crowd and racing back up the great stairs to the hall. Crossing the veranda, Solas reached out to her and she blindly pushed past him, unshed tears blurring the candlelight of the hall as she raced to the door to her room. Throwing the door open, she sprinted up the steps, the sound of the voices still reaching her even here. She ran to her bed, grabbed the nearest bed post and clung to it, unable to breathe. Her chest was tight and she felt like she was drowning! She doubled over to reign in the dizziness that was threatening to make her faint. She could faintly hear footsteps racing up the steps behind her.

“Ma’alin!” Solas’ hands held her fast at her waist, keeping her upright. She let go of the bedpost and clung to him, her arms in a vice grip around his waist, struggling to catch her breath. He held her close, one hand gently holding the back of her head as she burrowed her face into his chest, her hands balled up in his shirt. He gently caressed her back and shushed her with quiet reassurances.

“Ssssssh, Ma’alin. Talk to me.” She swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath. The panic was subsiding but she was still shaken.

“What’s happening, Solas? I don’t understand!” Her voice did not sound like her own, so stretched and thin.

Solas looked into her eyes and brushed the hair from her face. “The clan has suffered many hardships in your absence. The elders are gone, I am sorry to say we arrived too late to help them.”

Ma’alin’s knuckles were white as she clenched her fists in the material of Solas’ shirt. There was something else, something he was not telling her. She pushed back from him to look him squarely in the eyes.

“What else, Solas?” He looked at her quizzically, his eyes narrowed. There was something more. Something felt different. “What did you _do_ , Solas?”

“I aided your people in the name of the Inquisition, in the name of their Inquisitor. You offered safe passage and a place in the Inquisition to those who would come. I was a messenger.” His voice was calm and soothing, and perhaps she was imagining it, but his chin was raised in pride and he appeared slightly smug. Her irritation was rising again. She let go of his shirt and took a step back from him, pulling away from his hands.

“And now they're chanting my _name_! Why? I asked that they be given safe passage to freedom! I never wanted their _worship_!” Solas’ brows furrowed as he casually leaned against the bedpost.

“Perhaps not, but can you not see the impact of your actions? Accept their gratitude. This is _your_ legacy, Ma’alin! Think of how your influence could shape the world...”

“No! Don't start that again!” She cut him off sharply and crossed to the fireplace. She braced her hands against the mantle, gritting her teeth. My legacy, he says. Who was she kidding. She spun around to face him. “ _I_ have no legacy! _Everything_ is for the Inquisition! The name chanting? _You_ did this!” She pointed to the courtyard beyond her window where the sound of many voices calling her name floated up to her open windows. “You know my history with them and you took it upon yourself...”

Solas stepped forward and grasped her shoulders, leaning down to meet her eyes, his countenance earnest and his voice insistent. “No, you did this. Listen to me and stop struggling. It is your heart and compassion that did this. You may not be able to see it, but where you lead, the people follow! Your name is an inspiration to them! You are the leader they need...”

Ma’alin shook her head. “They don't _need_ me! They have a leader. Solas, these are the same people who stood by and watched while the keeper humiliated...” Ma’alin’s train of thought was suddenly derailed. Where was the Keeper? What had transpired that they began calling her the Keeper?

“Where is she, Solas? Did you bring her here? Tell me she’s _not_ here!” Her voice raised an octave and the tightness was swelling in her chest again.

Solas shook his head, his hands running up and down her arms soothingly. “No. She is not here. Rest easy, Ma’alin. She will never humiliate you again.”

Ma’alin wrapped her arms around her waist seeking comfort, her fingers pressed tight against the hollow spaces between her ribs. “Solas…Solas, what have you done?”

Solas stepped towards her slowly, closing the gap between them, his eyes tenderly seeking hers. His voice was calm, soothing, as he approached her cautiously. “It was justice.”

Ma’alin backed away from him suddenly, just barely missing the touch of his outstretched hands as she slipped from his grasp. “ _You_ did it, didn’t you… _you_ killed her? And Thalenn? Rin? I did not see them in the crowd.” She continued to back away from him, needing room to breathe.

Solas withdrew his hands and let her back away, stopping his pursuit when she bumped into the side of her desk in her attempt to escape. He followed her with his eyes, one brow arched questioningly as his face tilted in a curious look. “They are dead, yes. However, _I_ did no such thing.” Solas stood in the center of her room, crossed his arms, and met her gaze without flinching. “I will not lie, I was present at their demise. You should know, _I_ did not kill the Keeper, but I did not _save_ her either. As I said, you have justice.”

Ma’alin felt rendered and hollow, a growing feeling of anger and disappointment gnawing at her core at the slightly smug sound in his voice. She wanted to scream. She wanted to render the darkness that was welling up within her. Solas came closer to comfort her and she stopped him with a hand in the center of his chest, her palm braced against his jaw pendant and holding him at a distance. His eyes opened wide in surprise at her resistance and the anger that he could no doubt feel emanating from her. She didn’t want to feel his reassuring touch or she may break into a million jagged pieces.

“Ma’alin...you have your justice...”

“No, _not_ justice, Solas! What you did... _whatever_ you did...it was _vengeance_ …and it was not _yours_ to take!”

And there it was, the truth of it making her feel cheated of something she never had as the words fell from her lips. It felt like they ripped a hole in her chest. It was not truly him she was angry with, not truly. It was the fact that she had not been the one to deliver justice to the Keeper, the one to liberate her people, the one to right the wrongs. She had closed her eyes tight against the abuses of the Keeper when she left the clan, pretending her responsibility to them had been absolved when she joined the Inquisition. She told herself that one day she would make things right, but she hadn’t, and now Solas had saved them and named her their savior.

The Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. She felt unworthy and like a fraud. She dropped to her knees, the strength leaving her body. Solas rushed to her side.

“What is going on here?” Cassandra huffed at the top of the stairs, having run all the way up. Solas knelt beside Ma’alin, his hand upon her back as she huddled upon her knees.

“I’m a fraud.” Hot tears broke through and began to stream down her face. Solas looked distraught, his eyes searching hers looking for an answer as he wiped the tears from her face. He had never seen her cry and she was ashamed for him to see it now. 

“No, do not say that. Please, vhenan...”

Cassandra crossed the room and dropped to a knee before her, her brow furrowed and her eyes worried. “You are not a fraud. You are our Inquisitor.”

A sob caught in her throat. “Why do you believe in me? I am only the Inquisitor because of the anchor. I am not the Herald of anything. And I’m no leader! I’m not qualified to lead these people! Everyone is looking to me for the answers and what do I know about human politics? You should never have put your faith in me.” More tears streamed over her cheeks, quickly wiped away by Solas’ sleeve as he hovered next to her.

Cassandra looked at her fiercely, took a deep breath, and a small smile curved upon her lips. “I believe in you. Rarely have I put my faith in something that I was so sure of as I am of you. You are _our_ leader. You do not need to be a diplomat, a strategist, or a commander. That is why you have _us_ , Inquisitor.” Cassandra stood and held out her gloved hand to Ma’alin, raising her to her feet until they stood face to face, Solas standing close behind her.

“You are our leader. You are the heart of the Inquisition. You lead us by your example and the people believe in you. I could never have led the Inquisition as you do. Do you think I could have handled the mages of Redcliffe as you did? That Cullen could inspire the troops as you do? Do you think Leliana could have convinced the masses to unite like you? No, you are our moral compass. You have taught me there is strength to be found in compassion. Like me, our people look to you for an example of how to be more than what they are and, with your guidance, they dare to hope even when surrounded by darkness!”

Ma’alin hiccuped and stood unsteady on her feet, feeling Solas’ hand press against her lower back to steady her. “I am not the Herald, Cassandra. I don’t even pray to Andraste.”

Cassandra smiled and waved her hand to dismiss her words. “As long as the prayers reach of the ears of the gods does it really matter what they are called?”

Ma’alin could not help but smile. Cassandra had changed so much in the time she had known her, her trust showing her a different side to this strong woman.

“That's rather heretical of you, Seeker.” Solas’ tone was tender and cheerful as the tension in the room began to break.

Cassandra playfully huffed. “I blame it on your influence, Solas. I'm trying to learn the art of compromise. Now, Inquisitor, what shall we do with all these Dalish? Meet me in the war room when you’re ready.” She winked and gave Ma’alin a reassuring squeeze of her hand before spinning on her heel and descending the stairs.

Ma’alin turned to Solas and fell into his open arms. He pulled her in close and pressed his cheek atop her head.

“Solas, I am sorry.”

“No, I am sorry. I assumed I knew what was best for you and what your wishes were concerning the matter. You are so strong. Sometimes I worry that I need you more than you need me. I only wanted to help, vhenan.” Ma’alin looked up and reached for his face, bringing his lips down to hers. She felt her lips tremble against his. Solas kissed her gently.

“Solas, what should I do?” she asked. He wiped the remaining tears from her lashes. 

“Do what you do best, vhenan. Follow your heart. Now go, Cassandra awaits you. Find me when you are done.”  
______________________________

Ma’alin stood at the war table with her advisors, Cassandra at her side.

“We cannot house them all. There are too many.” She said, matter of factly.

Cullen grimaced. “We can not divide them amongst the camps. They are not soldiers.”

Josie shuffled her papers, looking distraught. “I...hmm, maybe I could arrange passage back to Wycome? We could requisition ships from Lord Sayor.”

Ma’alin barely heard them, focusing upon the map of Thedas. She had promised these people protection. She could only protect them in Thedas, areas where the Inquisition was strong and they would not fear outside interferences. She ran her hands over the Orlesian markers. Definitely not the west. Too many Venatori threats. Nevarra was too close to the Tevinter border and Inquisition presence was still tremulous there at best. The Dales should have been theirs and were tempting but rogue soldiers and bandits still plagued the area. She leaned towards Ferelden, her eyes scanning the topography. They needed rivers, plains, lush land for Halla grazing and natural shelter. Her fingers traced southeast of Redcliffe. It was perfect.

“Here, in the Hinterlands. The southeast lands butt up against the moutainside forming a natural barrier. The river is just west with fresh water springs in the cave we cleared out there several weeks ago. There are also remnants of an ancient Elvhen temple not far from this site. It affords shelter and plenty of room to grow. We have Inquisition outposts close to the area but not so close as to interfere. Any passage through those lands is heavily monitored by our troops but their position still affords privacy for the clan.”

Cullen leaned over the map assessing the position. “Should an emergency arise they can retreat to Redcliffe. Josephine, could you arrange that with the Arl?”

Josie perked up. “Yes, of course! And I can send letters of recommendation to the merchants in Redcliffe to negotiate trade contracts between them and the clan.”

Ma’alin turned to Cassandra. “Clear the hall and bring them in. I want Solas by my side.”

Cassandra nodded and left to summon Clan Lavellan to the Great Hall.  
____________________________

She stood on the dais before the throne of the Inquisition, Solas at her side, Cassandra at the door to Josie’s study. Clan Lavellan filled the room, looking half starved yet hopeful. Solas had whispered to her before entering, reminding her that these people turned a blind eye to her abuses because they had families to protect and they were not to blame for the wrongdoings of the Keeper. She understood this but the old hurt still stung. She felt separated from these people more than ever before. She was no longer Ma’alin, the First, of Clan Lavellan. She could never be that again.

Ma’alin looked out upon the expectant faces and her mouth went dry. Be brave, she thought. What would Josie say? How would Solas address these people? The answer evaded her but in her mind she heard Leliana’s words, ‘win hearts and minds’.

“The Inquisition welcomes you. Please accept my apologies for earlier. I was overcome by your gratitude.” She stepped closer to them to show she did not fear. “I understand you have suffered much since we last met, and for that I am very sorry. You shall not suffer again so long as the Inquisition stands.” A loud cheer erupted from the crowd and startled her. A reassuring touch at her lower back told her Solas was by her side. His presence gave her strength.

“Those who wish to join us in our fight, we have positions for able bodied warriors, healers, mages, and scouts. We will feed you, clothe you, shelter you, and you will receive a monthly stipend. For your families, I have found a place for the clan to thrive in the Hinterlands. There is good land, fresh water, and natural defenses. It is to be deeded to Clan Lavellan and under the protection of the Inquisition.” Another cheer erupted. She clenched and unclenched her hands, feeling the dampness upon her palms.

“You need a Keeper, a leader to guide the clan. I regret that I can not be what you need. I am needed here. You will elect a new Keeper. Ambassador Josephine will assist you with the elections of the Keeper and the First as well as help negotiate trade agreements between the new Keeper and the merchants of Redcliffe castle.” No cheering, just silence. Ma’alin began to feel doubt. Even progressive clans such as hers would balk at being told where to live and what to do. Then the voices started. It was a low rumbling that bubbled up from hushed voices.

Ma’alin looked over her shoulder to Solas for reassurance. He nodded and held up a finger that indicated that she should wait.

A loud voice boomed from the back and she spun to face the crowd. “You mean to tell us you will let us choose who we want to lead? No strings attached? No favors owed? Just like that?”

Ma’alin nodded, “Just like that.”

He looked around him. “Must we decide now? Or can we go and decide later?” Ma’alin knew the general indecisiveness was a result of not having choices for so very long. She had the same problem.

“Choose who you want, when you want. The choice is yours. Now if you will excuse me, my ambassadors will help you with all the arrangements.” She stepped from the dais and turned to retreat to her room as quickly as possible.

“Inquisitor! Wait!” Ma’alin ’s heart skipped. She knew that voice well. Turning, she saw Lanvel, her former chosen, standing in the parted crowd. He was still handsome, blonde from the sun, but he looked older and more worn. The years had not been kind. Lanvel beamed his charming smile. In another time she would have left her world to run away with him. Now he was a faded memory from another life. He turned to a small red haired woman behind him. When he turned back to her, he held a small child with bright red hair in his arms. He walked through the crowd to stand before her, a step below her on the dais. Ma’alin looked upon the man she once cared for and realized the child was his.

“Inquisitor, Ma’alin, on behalf of my family and I, we thank you for what you have done. This is my girl, Merri. Without the aid of your agent, Solas, we would have lost her. You both have our eternal thanks.” The tiny girl reached out to Ma’alin and touched her pale ivory hair, a smile spreading across her face. Ma’alin felt her heart ache.

“Well, aren’t you a beautiful girl! And I bet you love your, Da, yes?” Merri’s shrill laugh echoed through the hall. “Many blessings to you, Merri. And to you, Lanvel.” Lanvel kissed the top of Merri’s curls.

“Wuf! Wuf!” Merri looked past Ma’alin to Solas at her shoulder and reached out to him with both hands. Ma’alin looked at him curiously. “Friend of yours, Solas?” she teased.

“Yes, you could say so, Inquisitor.” Solas smiled and gave the child a small wave.

“Wuf! Wuf!” Merri chanted as she reached for him eagerly.

The tips of Solas’ ears flushed. Lanvel held out the squirming toddler to Solas. He stepped forward and scooped her in his arms, her tiny hands patting his chest and jawbone pendant. She laid her cheek against his neck and smiled. “Wuf.” she cooed.

“Wolf? Is that what she is saying?” Ma’alin asked him.

“Ah, yes. She is quite fond of my necklace.” Solas smiled sweetly and bounced the toddler in his arms.

Lanvel caught her attention with a slight touch upon her arm. “Inquisitor, the children await outside. May we bring them in? They are eager to see the Inquisitor.”

“Of course, bring them in.” She waved to the soldiers at the back of the hall.

Suddenly the great door swung open and sunlight filled the hall as well the sound of children’s laughter. The children from Clan Lavellan flooded in from the courtyard and raced to the front of the throne room, their giddiness infectious. But they did not run to the Inquisitor.

“Solas!” they cried as they ran to him. Ma’alin stood dumbstruck and wide-eyed.

Solas, the nondescript apostate, stood before the throne of the Inquisition surrounded by elven children clamoring for his attention. She watched him, in awe, as he greeted each one, knew each of their names, and gently touched the tops of their heads.

Solas looked up and his eyes met hers and her heart melted. For a moment, just a brief second, she could envision him holding a child, a girl with pale golden curls and blue-green eyes, a child with his sad eyes and curiosity. Solas stepped through the children to her, handed her little Merri and turned to the older children. One frail girl stood at his side with her hand creeping into his. Solas knelt until he was eye level with the small child, too small for her age.

“Do you remember when you asked who sent me, dahlen?” he asked the small girl. She nodded. “That is the Inquisitor, Ma’alin of Clan Lavellan.”

The small girl eyed her curiously, perhaps trying to remember her. “She’s the one that sent you, hahren?” Solas nodded to the child. She eyed Ma’alin curiously, teetering back and forth on her small toes as she considered her. The girl took a few tentative steps towards Ma’alin and then rushed to her side, throwing her arms around her waist. Ma’alin felt awkward, unsure what to do. The silence in the room told her that others were awaiting her reaction as well. She gently placed her hand upon the girl’s head and held her close.

A loud cheer erupted in the hall as the other children rushed to embrace her, forming a large circle around her. They wanted to touch her, to tell her their names, and to describe their adventures as they had traveled to Skyhold. Ma’alin knelt to give them her full attention, memorizing their sweet faces. Solas slipped away, summoning the companions and ambassadors to bring provisions to the hall for food and drink.

The Dalish clan laughed and smiled throughout the afternoon, and Josie made sure there was plenty of food for everyone. Bull and Sera entertained the children with jokes and games while Vivienne and Dorian discussed concerns with the parents of the mage children. Varric told his stories of the Champion, while Cullen and Cassandra spoke with those interested in joining the Inquisition. Blackwall took requests to carve small wooden toys for the kids. Cole sat on the floor amidst some of the youngest children, smiling as they played with his large hat. Ma’alin took it all in, and reached out and took Solas’ hand.

“What happened with the children, Solas?”

He drew her close, her back pressed to his chest, and he spoke low in her ear. “Sold to slavers in Val Chevin.

“And the slavers?” she asked.

“Had a change of heart.” he smiled. “Suffice to say, that ship will never sail again.”

Ma’alin leaned her head back upon his shoulder. “Why do I get a feeling this has something to do with that secret you have yet to tell me?” She felt his muscles tense. “Don’t worry, Solas. I will not ask you. You will tell me in time. I just wish you knew you could trust me with it, whatever it is.”

Solas placed a kiss upon her ear. “Soon, vhenan.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin upon her shoulder, watching the children dance and play about the great hall while the clan ate, drank, and celebrated their new freedom.

“Solas, do you ever think....that is, do you wonder if...” she stumbled on her words like a love sick fool.

“Do I ever think of you, of us, with a life like that? With a little Merri of our own, you mean?” 

Ma’alin felt her cheeks flush and turn red, it was an awkward question when it was said aloud. “Yes, that is what I mean.”

Solas took a deep breath and sighed, kissing the top of her shoulder. “There are moments when such thoughts cross my mind. Then I remember that we have a duty to the people, and there is no guarantee of tomorrow. Let’s not forget we have yet to learn the long term effects of the anchor.” His voice was wistful and almost sad.

Ma’alin nodded. “You and I are of the same mind. But there are moments when my thoughts linger on what could be.”

“Perhaps some day, when the world is different.” he whispered.

“Yes, in another world, when the Inquisition is no longer needed.” she mused, knowing deep inside that day would probably never come during her lifetime.

Solas squeezed her hand that rested in his. “Is that something you want, Ma’alin?”

Ma’alin squeezed back. “I want you. That is enough.”

“For now. As for the other things....one can only hope, vhenan. Now, come.” Solas took her hand and pulled her towards her chamber door with a wolfish grin. “You have been missed. I would like to ravish you but I can see the exhaustion in your eyes. Allow me to ease that for you.”

Ma’alin smiled shyly, following where he led her. “What do you propose, Solas?”

Crossing the threshold, he pulled her into his embrace, his body warm against her skin, his lips soft against her ear as his hands slid up her back. “A warm bath to ease your body. A massage to ease your mind. A kiss as I tuck you into bed. And then, only sweet dreams,” he placed a chaste kiss upon the tip of her ear, then nipped it gently with his teeth, “and perhaps I can entice you to join me in exploring one another in the fade.”

Ma’alin stepped past him and began to pull him up the stairs eagerly, a knowing smile upon her lips and a fluttering beginning to spread through her. “Where have you been all my life, Solas?”

Solas smiled as he followed her, his fingers entwined in hers as he raised her hand to his lips for a kiss. The wolfish grin had returned.

“I’ve been around.”


	19. Visions of Fen'harel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas offers Ma'alin a vision of the cocksure elf he once was, in a tiny glimpse of his world, when Arlathan still stood. There's smut, fluff, a bit of angst, sensual smut and more Fen'harel!
> 
>  
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> [Inspiration board here](http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/127744402399/inspiration-board-for-chapter-19-of-the-fox-and)
> 
>  [Ma'alin's corset ](https://www.etsy.com/listing/164094030/gaudi-inspired-bustle-burlesque-divamp?ref=shop_home_active_10)
> 
>  [Solas' feathered jacket ](http://www.hattin-around.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/feather-coat.jpg)

“Show me who you are” she had said. “Show me the hot-headed young man I wish I had known.”

Solas studied her through narrowed eyes, wondering if she could even possibly fathom what she was asking. Her fingers had trailed down his shirt as she drew him in closer, her warm breath sending shivers down his skin as it mingled with the chilling wisps of the fade.

“I want to know _you_ more. I wish I had known you then. So much lost time...” Solas shook his head. Only someone so young would have sentiments such as hers, would wish to know someone he had long tried not to remember.

“I was hot-headed, cocksure, ready to fight on a whim. Impulsive. And I had the folly of thinking I knew everything. He was not someone you would wish to know, Ma’alin.” Her hands balled into his shirt as she pulled him down to her, her lips hovering above his, her lips curved into a tempting smirk he wanted to devour.

“I _like_ cocksure.” She smiled and bit her lip. “And I like _you_.” Solas inhaled sharply as she pressed her body against his, looking up at him from beneath a fan of dark lashes. Solas could feel his resolve crumbling.

“What do you want to know, Inquisitor?” A small smile was tugging at his lips as he watched her squirm anxiously, biting her lower lip and trying to fight a smile herself. Her hands were tugging at his shirt, worrying at the hem with a look that said she really wanted to remove it.

“Show me you as you used to be. Show me something only you’ve seen.”

He looked at her for a moment, wondering if he dared. Solas grinned and nodded. “That I can do. Close your eyes, vhenan.” Ma’alin closed her eyes eagerly and bounced on her tip toes in anticipation. Dark wisps trailed about her ankles. Solas ran his hands over her face, ghosting over her valasslin, as he pulled her mana to the surface from where she kept it deeply subdued. Small shivers ran down her arms.

“Solas? What are you doing?” her brow arched questioningly, her eyes still closed.

“You will see. Keep your eyes closed. Count to 10. Then, open your eyes... _and come find me_.” He stepped back from her quickly, barely escaping her searching hands as she reached for him, suppressing a smile.

“One. Two. Three.” Ma’alin could begin to feel the tingling upon her skin from the fade shifting around her.

“Four. Five. Six.” In the distance she began to hear the sound of running water and feel warmth upon her skin, the sounds of distant voices and...music?

“Seven. Eight. Nine.” This is not like last time, she reminded herself. Her heart raced but this time it was not in fear of what lay awaiting her in the fade. This time he was in control. This time was safe. She inhaled sharply. This time Envy could not find her.

She took a deep breath.

“Ten.” She opened her eyes and winced at the brightness all around. Her eyes adjusted to the light, warm amber glow gleaming off of mirrors and gold in a crystalline hall. Sounds of singing and laughter spilled in from the grand archway just before her. Ma’alin had never seen anything so ornate, so delicate, so ostentatious. She trailed her fingers down the delicately carved vines and leaves that framed the archway, all covered in gold, showcasing faceted gemstones for berries, and mother of pearl flower petals. The shape of the archway looked similar to an eluvian.

She turned to look about the room and found that every window exhibited the same shape, the peaks of each arch touching the ceiling. Nestled between the windows were great arched mirrors. Those were eluvians! She had only ever seen a broken eluvian but here they danced with illumination, pale cerulean light emanating from within those that were activated. The others appeared as ordinary mirrors. She could only imagine where they might lead. Why were there so many here? She spun around to take it all in. She had to crane her neck to see the skillfully painted frescos on the ceiling. Emerald Knights on their harts in full royal procession marching down the golden streets of a golden city. Crystal spires atop immense trees in a lush green land. It was all too much to take in! The frescos looked the same as those Solas painted in his rotunda but made his beautiful work look quite rudimentary in comparison. Someone had spent years constructing these.

She turned and caught a reflection of herself in one of the great Eluvian mirrors and blinked hard, her hands rising to her face. It took a moment to recognize herself. Her hair was bound in large, loose curls that fell down her neck and cascaded down her back. Dark kohl smoked her eyes, lined with a delicate gold that swirled up at the edges. Her vallaslin....was gone. Her fingers traced where the branching limbs of Mythal should have been and came away with gold dust upon her finger tips.

Gone was her simple outfit. Here she found herself in a leather corset that was covered in platinum and rivets. It fit and flexed as if it had been made for her. It flared out to an ornate bustle at her hips, making her waist appear even smaller, and then fanned out to cascading layers of silvery gold silk to form a luminescent trailing skirt. Her ankles and feet were bound in golden colored ribbons as were her wrists. Strangest of all was the corset about her neck, also leather coated with platinum, tied with golden ribbons at the nape of her neck. It made her look statuesque and fierce.

Ma’alin smiled to herself, feeling giddy and overwhelmed, wondering what she could expect when she found Solas. She hovered at the doorway briefly, trying to calm the flutter in her stomach, and stepped through the ornate arch and into a great hall with a ceiling that sparkled like diamonds. Great fountains illuminated the center of the room and candelabras alight with intricate runes lit the faces of the people in the room.

No, _not_ people. These were elves! There were people dancing, laughing, drinking, flirting, arguing, preening, and parading about the great hall. The dress of these people would put the Orlesian’s to shame, she thought. Each person was intricately decorated, styled, painted, and made-up to look divine and yet there were still elements of nature woven into their dress. Ivy embroidered on the trains of gowns. Men’s robes in the colors of fall leaves. Golden embroidery of....was that halla? And many depictions of a wolf’s head in their jewelry. Everyone was so majestic. Is this how the Elvhenan were? Or a fantasy?

Ma’alin wove her way through the crowd searching for his face, swaying to the sounds of the beautiful music that spilled out across the hall. Strings and lutes played waltzes and strange tunes she’d never heard before. Many curious eyes met hers, with seemingly knowing smiles upon their lips. Their grand aura was intriguing and a bit off-putting. These may be elves but she had the distinct feeling she did not belong with these people. They were taller, more elegant, more like the stories of the gods in the pantheon. Untouchable.

She searched the crowd for his face. She was beginning to feel frustrated. She began to push through the dancing couples, dodging their elaborate twirls. Breaking through the crowd she saw _him_.

She stumbled and took a step backwards.

Fen’harel, from the fade. The Envy demon! _No no no!_

His deep violet-blue eyes met hers and a small smirk curved at his lips. Ma’alin realized she wasn’t breathing. Fen’harel, or rather, Envy parading as Fen’harel had haunted her before, wearing her lover’s face. He had found her again!

Ma’alin spun on her heel and bolted in the opposite direction. Cries rang out as she pressed past the curious onlookers, hearing footsteps rushing up behind her quickly. He was almost upon her!

A strong arm snaked about her waist and held her fast, drawing her in tight against his chest. She struggled against her captor, creating a scene amongst those on the dance floor.

“Let me go, you fiend! I know what you are!” A hand came up to her neck and pulled her head back to his shoulder, his lips upon her ear.

“Is that so? I should hope not. And am I so unpleasant to look at that I am a fiend, vhenan?” Fen’harel’s voice, Solas’ voice, at her ear. She could not trust it. She had been deceived before.

“Let go of me or else Solas will find you and when he does...”

“Ssssshhh, Ivoriel. You found me. Stop your struggles.” Ma’alin froze. It took a moment for her to gain her bearing. Only the real Solas knew that name. A single warm kiss was placed on her ear before he released her. She spun to look at him, this man with her lover’s voice.

“Solas?” She reached out to touch him, this young man before her with her lover’s face. No, not the same face. He was younger, appearing just a few years older than herself, the wrinkles around his eyes had not yet formed. His skin was tawny from the sun and his body was lithe and toned. His expressions were Solas’ but more smug, more prideful. The scars were gone, his eyes brighter, and his hair...oh gods, his hair! She reached up to touch the beautiful, long, glossy locks that cascaded down his back and chest. In the lights it appeared dark blonde? Light golden brown? It was cropped close on the sides and the thick tresses were loosely wrapped in twists that were wrapped around one another, creating the look of a warrior prince.

She tentatively ran her fingers down his neck to the deep plunging neckline of his coat, a beautiful piece of art constructed from golden gilded feathers. The collar fanned to frame his face, the neckline plunged down to his navel, and the tail of the coat fanned behind him like a great cloak. His legs were wrapped in golden cloth reminiscent of the battered wrappings Solas always wore. She stepped in closer and looked at him, tracing her fingers down the side of his sharp jawline. Golden cuffs lined the outer ridge of his ears and his upper eyelids were lined in the same gold liner that adorned her own.

He watched her in quiet amusement as she took him in, touching him in familiar places in assurance that this was the same man she knew as the apostate Solas.

“Not what you expected, vhenan?” He returned her touch by caressing her cheek. Everything in her felt quivery and fluttery. He was so much more than she expected. Solas was handsome, and a look from his eyes was enough to make her want him. Solas as a young man....gods, he was gorgeous! He looked like an elven god!

“This all so much more than... I’m sorry for that, I was afraid I had seen Envy again. I was afraid you were Envy, or rather, Envy as Fen’harel. It sounds ridiculous now.”

Solas laughed out loud. “I can assure you that I am not Envy. As for Fen’harel...do you want me to be the Dread Wolf?” A coy smile curled upon his lips as he traced her lower lip with his thumb.

“Don’t toy with me, Solas. I want you. That is all I want.”

“Such a pity. You could have had it all.” He was teasing her relentlessly, pulling at threads of deep fantasies she had never shared with anyone.

“I told you I want to know _you_ more. Show me that and I will have all I want.” He looked at her in appreciation.

“Yes, that will do. Let us begin.” He took her in his arms and drew her close, guiding them into the middle of the dance floor. The music began to swell into a dizzying waltz as the other couples cleared a space for them. Solas’ left hand cupped her waist, his right entwining his fingers with hers, and he leaned in closely until their faces were inches apart.

“Dance with me” he commanded.

She smiled up at him. “I tremble and obey” she replied joyfully.

Solas swept her around the floor in long graceful strides. As always, their bodies moved as one, so in sync with another that their breaths fell into a joint cadence.

“You jest and yet you do tremble, I can feel it.” Again, that smug smile curled upon his lips. She could feel her face flush.

“It would not be the first time you’ve felt me tremble, Solas. Do not act so surprised.”

His smug little smirk turned into a knowing smile. “Yes, but it usually involves much less clothing to make you tremble thus. And I am making you tremble.”

“Dread Wolf take you, Solas!” She laughed despite her shy embarrassment. He smiled again as if at some inside joke that only he knew.

“No, but he could take you, so be careful what you wish for.” Her eyes met his with a playfully reproachful look. Other couples were beginning to join them on the floor and Solas spun them together in smaller and less frenzied circles. The music began to slow.

“I bet I could make you tremble more. I bet I could make you call my name....out loud, here and now.” This beautiful man before her wore a mischievous grin that was full of the promise of delightful sin.

“You wouldn’t! You couldn’t! Solas...” her eyes became wide, her words cut off by a fluttery thrumming that she could feel deep within her, a feeling she knew too well from previous dealings with her elven apostate lover.

“I could. I would. I am. Now, tell me, where can you feel me?” His voice was like hot honey and velvet, causing flutters in her stomach that rivaled the thrumming that he was beginning to course through her body, rolling waves of his mana pushing through her like the waves at high tide.

“Everywhere. You are everywhere.” His eyes were locked upon hers, the smug smirk upon his lips as he guided her across the floor. She was beginning to lose track of her feet but he was so deft that he made up for her lost steps, carrying her along.

“That’s right, vhenan” he purred. “I am the hunger you feel.” A deep wave thrust up within her gently, causing her to gasp. She bit down on her lip to silence herself.

“I am the desire you crave.” Again Solas pushed his energy within her, bright warmth spreading throughout her limbs and pooling down deep where it burned deliciously.

“I am the wolf at your door.” He was beginning to pulsate within her, and her hand gripped at his shoulder to steady herself. She realized she had closed her eyes, so lost in the feeling, and she quickly opened them to look at him again. His gaze was intense, his eyes ablaze with desire, and small beads of sweat had formed at his temples from the exertion of the energy he was extolling upon her. Her hands were beginning to tremble as she fought for control.

“I am the man in your dreams, vhenan. Finally, you can see me, just as I am.” His energy surged, causing her to cry out as it licked within her like a windstorm fanning the flames. Solas’ strides grew quicker as he carried them both around the dance floor, her toes tingling and barely touching the ground.

Ma’alin fought the aching feelings of pleasure that were calling out to his caresses for release. She wanted to see him, to feel him, to make him work for her release rather than just surrender to it. She pushed back against him with her own untrained efforts and his expression changed, brows arched and piqued at the rise of a challenge.

“And what am I, Solas? Your prey? A rabbit to be devoured? I am no rabbit.” She pulled at her own energy, her own mana, which begged to join his. The anchor began to spark wildly as he held it in his hand. She saw his smile deepen and reach his eyes as she pushed her mana into him, caressing and teasing him.

Solas hummed his approval as she swirled her energy within him, answering his rolling tides of thrumming pleasure with her own soft caresses.

“You are no prey, Ma’alin. You are a huntress, a beautiful spirit sent to enflame my soul, and break my heart with your loveliness. No, you are no rabbit meant for devouring. You are a woman worthy of following. Oh, but you could be so much _more!_ ” Before she could ask him what he meant his mana rushed within her like a breaking dam and took her over. It felt as if they were becoming one and he burned within her!

“I can feel you, just as you feel me.” His voice was becoming breathy. “You want me to chase you, vhenan? Is that it? You can only hold me back for so long. You want to let go. You tremble for me.”

Ma’alin’s eyes closed against her will as she felt a deep, vigorous thrumming deep within her core where her desire burned and craved him. Solas was so deep within her that everything else had faded away except the feeling of dizzying weightlessness and a ravenous desire.

“Come to me, Ma’alin” he whispered to her. Hot tingling waves of mana surged within her, urging her on, and breaking the last of her resolve. It chased her desire until it found the burning ache within her and flooded her senses in waves of orgasmic euphoria. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as she cried out his name.

“Yes!” he hissed sharply under his breath. “Just like that. Keep going. I’m not through with you yet.”

Ma’alin gasped as he swelled within her and filled her senses until he was everything and everywhere and the only sensation she could feel were the rushing waves of him that overtook her body, making her tremble like a leaf. Only his touch, his voice, kept her anchored within her body. She could feel his arms around her but she was somewhere else, apart from mere physical sensation, enveloped in energy that coursed through the heart of her. Just as she was beginning to come down from the high she was pushed to the edge again and his name fell from her lips as if it had a will of it’s own.

“Solas! Solas...Solas, I’m going to faint!” A warm chuckle answered her small pleas and a warm kiss was placed upon the tip of her nose. The dizzying whirling was fading but bright stars and bursts of light still lingered behind her closed eyes.

“Open your eyes, Ma’alin. Can you feel your toes?” Solas smiled at her with mischievous eyes as he gently placed her upon her unsteady feet. She glanced about nervously and realized that the other couples were so entranced in their own dances that they didn’t seem to pay any attention to what had just happened between them.

“You are wicked, you know that?” She tugged on a lock of his hair. The long hair was something she could definitely get used to. Her ears were still ringing and she could hear the blood rushing through her head. His energy had dissipated and withdrawn but she could still feel him lingering on her skin, tingling along her nerves.

“Yes, but I am yours. And you like me that way. You can’t say I didn’t warn you. I usually get what I want, and you gave me exactly what I wanted.” Again, the smug smile curved upon his beautiful lips.

“You certainly are sure of yourself here” she said.

“I am sure of _you_.” He leaned into her, squeezing her waist as he drew her in close to make his point. “Besides, is this not what you wanted?” His fingers trailed up her back, sending shivers across her skin.

“I want you,” Ma’alin ran her fingers down his chest exposed in the V of his neckline.

“You have me. Come.” Solas took her hand and led her through the crowd of elegant faces, each one nodding to him as he passed. Ma’alin found that curious but was led away too quickly to dwell upon it.

Solas led her down a long gilded hall to immense double doors covered in more golden filigree and cut mirrors that reflected the light from the great hall where the music continued and the laughter echoed.

He opened to doors to an immense bedroom where the walls glittered as they reflected the warm rune lights from the candelabras. In the center of the room sat an immense curved bed that appeared to be carved from a massive, solid tree. The shapes were rounded and flowing, curving up from the floor and flowing to form a delicate canopy overhead. The headboard had sentinel wolves, standing guard, carved into the sides of the posts that created the canopy. It was a compliment of flowing feminine lines and masculine simplicity of strength.

Looking about the room it was simple, more subdued, compared to the luxuries of the great hall. Mossy green velvet blankets upon the bed, an ancient carved desk with claw feet littered with papers and books, and a large golden high-backed chair that was showing signs of wear in the seat. All the signs of the man she loved were in this room. The fantasy didn’t seem so surreal any longer. She turned from the end of the bed to see him, regal and nonchalant, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed. He had removed his jacket and was now bare chested, his skin tanned from the sun, with long locks of hair shining in the warm light. He had the long, lean muscles of a dancer. The same broad shoulders and narrow hips she had kissed many times before. This was a vision she could never forget. She looked at him and thought of how he was the same, and yet different, from the man she had fallen in love with. What had happened to him between then and now?

“I have so many questions, Solas.”

A small smile tugged at his lips but it was wary, less cocky. “And yet, you ask none of them. You never do. Why is that, Ma’alin?” He studied her carefully with a gaze that penetrated her and made her feel exposed. She leaned against the bedpost and crossed her arms in the same manner as him, keeping space between them to allow the words to come out. So often those words were stilled with a kiss, cut short by an embrace, interrupted by urgent matters, and were never spoken. There would be no interruptions here.

“Is all this,” she looked about the room, “real? That is to say, was it real for you? Or is it all a fantasy?”

Solas nodded in acknowledgment. He understood what she was asking. He exhaled slowly and kept his gaze intent upon her.”Why does it have to be one or the other? Why can’t it be both?”

“That was not an answer, Solas.” She leaned against the post and crossed one ankle over the over. She wanted to be comfortable. He loved to challenge her so this may take a while.

“Neither was yours, but I will let that slide. In truth, I have seen much in the fade. I am willing to bet I have seen more than any other being alive, and have walked in the pages of history that no one is alive to tell. Is this not more exciting, more alluring to the senses, than the reality? Besides, at least part of it is true. In truth, at times I find myself wondering what is real and what is a memory of a memory.” He was no longer smiling but he wore a look of smug satisfaction with himself.

“Yes, but I wonder which part? It is all beautiful, unbelievable to behold, and with you in it....the you I never had the pleasure of knowing....it _is_ intoxicating. But I asked to know you more. I’ve caught a glimpse of this cocksure elf and I like him, oooh I really do, but it’s still only a glimpse and he’s still a mystery to me. Just as you’ve always been.”

Solas’ brows furrowed. She found herself missing the small wrinkles that scrunched up around his nose. Solas as a young man had yet to develop those and she missed it. “If I’m such a mystery it’s a wonder that you trust me at all. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

She had struck a nerve. Good. She stood from her post and crossed the room to stand before him, her chin raised to him to meet his gaze which was turning to a smoldering glare. She locked her wrists behind her back, mimicking his steadfast stance he adopted when he was challenging her. He knew the language well.

“There is a side of you that I know so well that I could tell what you want before you want it. You’ve become such a part of me that when you’re gone it feels hard to breathe. I see you in my dreams and I awake each morning eager to hear your voice and to know what we will discover together each day.” Solas shifted, uncrossing his arms, and he was gripping the sides of the desk. He leaned forward into her space, his presence electric upon her skin.

“But there is a side of you I do not know. You have secrets, Solas.”

“ _One_ secret, Ma’alin...” He interrupted her quickly, rising to stand before her, indignant, but she had more to say. She placed one hand upon his chest, pushed him back to sitting on the edge of the desk, and kept him at a distance.

“Secrets, Solas. Perhaps they all stem from one big secret, but secrets nonetheless. There is part of you that you keep from me. We both know it. There are times when I almost think I’ve grasped it. The things you say, the visions in my dreams, the feelings I have when I’m with you...it’s like I have all the pieces there but I can’t put them together. Just when I think I’ve figured it out they all melt and slip through my fingers.” She found her fingers trailing at the ends of his golden brown hair that spilled down his chest, twisting it around her fingers absently. His features were softening, the tension draining from his body. His hands came her waist, holding her, but allowing her the distance between them.

“You do have secrets, Solas. You also promised me that one day you would tell them to me when you were ready. In that same breath you promised me that you were mine. And I believed you then, as I believe you now. I do trust you, Solas. So, no, I don’t ask questions. I take you as you are, mystery and all, until the day you allow me to see all of you. Until then, I love all the pieces of you. Even the ones I can’t hold onto.” She caressed the tendrils of hair she had wound in her fingers and let them slide from her hand. She looked up into his eyes to find his expression strained, brows furrowed, and lips tight.

“Solas...?” Her face tilted questioningly, his expression unreadable. A ragged breath escaped his lips and he drew her in so close, his arms encircling her waist as he squeezed her until she could barely breathe, bringing his forehead down to rest against hers. Their noses touched, their lips brushing against one another, and his breaths were heavy as he fought against whatever emotion was taking hold of him. His hands trembled at her waist, his chest heaved against her own. She wrapped her arms around him and could feel the tightly bound restraint he was exerting over himself. He quaked with it and she could feel the tremble beneath her fingertips.

“Solas, please, vhenan. I am here. You can trust me.” Her words met his lips and he pressed his forehead against hers more insistently, grasping her even tighter. She fought back the urge to gasp for a breath. He was holding her so tightly that she was becoming lightheaded. And still he trembled. She was becoming anxious. She had never seen him, or any man, like this. It did not feel like anger or despair. Rather it felt like someone trying to control a storm and failing. She ran her hands down his back and pulled at him to reassure him she didn’t want him to let go.

“Hold onto me. Don’t let go. Tell me what you need, Solas.” He held her in silence, his hands grasping at her body as if she were in danger of slipping through his hands, his breaths slowing but still ragged. Finally, his trembling began to lessen and his lips brushed against hers as he spoke.

“Who are you?” his voice tremulous, deep and husky, his breath hot against her lips.

“Solas?” Her eyes flew open and she leaned away from him, trying to meet his gaze. His eyes were closed tight as he shook his head. Finally he opened them and met her gaze. His eyes were pleading and earnest and the look he gave her nearly broke her heart.

“Who are you? You can’t be real. I have dreamed you for so long. I will awaken and you will be gone and it will have all been nothing but a delirious dream.” He sounded resigned to the fact, looking at her with a tortured gaze. “Or worse yet, you are real, and I will lose you. I will hurt you and you will wish you had never known me. Please, do not be real.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Stay with me. Stay with me here, always, where nothing can ever hurt you, least of all me.”

Solas stole her words with a kiss before she could answer him, his lips hot upon hers and the strain of his emotions palpable in his touch. He released his grasp upon her waist and began deftly unlacing her corset. The whole dress fell off in one quick motion, his fingers removing the corset about her neck. He moved so quickly that she clung to him for balance, returning his kiss with equal fervor. She grasped the front of his breeches and unlaced them quickly. He stepped out of them with little effort, grabbed the back of her thighs, and hoisted her to his waist. She locked her ankles about him, wrapping her arms about his neck, and planted kisses along his cheeks and jaw.

Solas pressed her against the wall, a soft thud as they collided, and a small gasp fell from her lips. Hands moved quickly as he guided himself within her, her eyes closing at the sensation of him as he entered her, biting down on her lip as he kissed her neck just below her ear. Her weight shifted til he was fully within her, so easy, so delicious...so meant to be. They fit as if made for one another.

Ma’alin pulled at the ties in his hair, thick coils of twisted locks coming undone around her. The last one undone, his hair fanned out loosely across his shoulders in waves. She tangled her fingers in it, drawing him further down her neck where he sucked at her skin, sending bolts of heat through her core. He thrusted up within her and she arched her back against the wall, feeling the heat of him as her body expanded around him. One arm was tight around her waist, the other cupped her bottom and lifted her high, withdrawing from her, then bringing her low to meet his heady thrust. Slowly, oh so slowly, maddening and so controlled.

Her fingers trailed through his hair, her lips laying kisses on his eyelids. “I’m real, Solas.” A moan against her neck as he thrust into her again. “I’m real. And I’m here. And I’m yours. You have made me yours.” Again he thrust gently inside her, his arms trembling, his mouth pressed to her ear.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered raggedly in her ear.

Ma’alin bit her lips and pushed back the sudden ache in her throat that welled with emotion. She swallowed hard and pulled at his hair, drawing him to her until they were face to face, their lips inches apart.

“So don’t.” She leaned in to kiss him, meeting his soft lips with her own, licking at his bottom lip and begging for entry. His mouth opened and his tongue met hers, a gentle caress. A promise. A pact between lovers.

Solas pulled away from the wall, their bodies still one, and fell with her to the bed. She rolled him to his back, her knees straddling him as she lay atop him. Her hair fell over his neck, ivory tendrils mixed with his dark blonde waves. She ran her fingers down the long tresses that fell about his face. The tension between them was palpable. She held up a handful of his long tresses and brought them to her lips, kissing them behind a coy glance.

“I could get used to this, you know.” She smiled as he studied her face.

“Do you prefer it? To how you know me now?” He asked her, doubt in his voice.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t prefer it. I miss the little lines that form here,” she touched the bridge of his nose, “when you frown at me. And your laugh lines haven’t yet formed which tells me you haven’t laughed much up til now. And that’s a shame. I rather like those lines.”

“You make me laugh more than I ever have before. I blame you for those lines.” A hint of his warm smile was beginning to return to his face. She wanted to draw him from his melancholy, back to this moment, and away from his fears.

“We must talk about this hair! Gods, Solas, the hair! I never would have thought that I could love a man with prettier hair than me. But I do rather like it.” That made him smile a bit more as she playfully tugged at the loose strands laying atop his chest. He became quiet again, his hand reaching up to caress her face, her cheek nestled in the palm of his hand. He cleared his throat, his expression wistful.

”I grew up in a very small village to the north. Did I ever tell you that?” She shook her head. “No, I suppose I did not. It was very small, not much there to hold my attention for very long. I was restless and I wanted to see the world. I learned very young that I could shape my dreams and escape into the memories of the fade...lives lived by others. Amazing adventures, discoveries, wars, and loves that I could observe at my heart’s content. But I traveled those journeys alone. In the end, they only added to my loneliness. When I was older I found solace in the arms of others. Many filled the empty spaces for a time, frivolous distractions of fancy, with those who sought me for my abilities and power. But the loneliness always returned. Eventually, I met spirits in the fade, Wisdom was one of them, and I found beings of a like-mind that chased away my loneliness. I never once found that in another person or outside of the fade. That is, until I met you. You are unique.”

Ma’alin turned her lips to his palm and kissed it gently, lingering there, eyes closed, cherishing the moment.

“Thank you, Solas. That is all I wanted from you. Thank you for telling me.” He smiled genuinely and the smile drained all the tension from his eyes. He sat up, cradling her in his lap, his fingers trailing down her back.

“So easy to please,” he purred. The confidence and smugness had returned to his voice. “Is that all you want from me? That’s a shame. You should learn to ask for more.” A wolfish grin curved across his lips.

“Oh, make no mistake. I want _more_ , but I’m in no rush. You’re mine, remember?” she answered with a smile.

Skin to skin, their bodies joined, he kissed her slowly. Ma’alin shivered at the sensation. His lips were so soft, his body taut around her as he held her in his embrace, his member warm and pulsing within her. They had been together several times but this time was different. There was no rush. No dire need to vanquish their desire. No lust to rush the deed. No, it was a slow burn, an appreciation of one another.

Ma’alin slowly rolled her hips against his. He closed his eyes briefly at the sensation. She rolled against him again, relishing the feel of him inside her. His left hand raked up through her hair and came to rest at the back of her neck, his right hand cupping her bottom, pulling her in close and driving himself deeper. A small moan fell from her lips as he pressed his lips against her cheek, pulling her into him again. She wound her arms around his neck, long tendrils of his hair entangled in her hands. When he pulled her hips to him again she gave them a slight tug which made him groan with pleasure.

Solas pulled her to him, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss, as he rocked her hips against his more quickly. She met his rhythm and answered it in kind, increasing the motion, rising further from hm and pushing him deeper within with his thrust. When he became fully sheathed she clenched around him as he withdrew, swallowing the moan that escaped his mouth. His left hand left her neck and cupped her breast, squeezing it. He broke the kiss and leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth, slowly flicking it with his tongue and circling it with hot caresses. She leaned her head back and rocked her hips against his, feeling the burning ache deep down that sighed with sweet relief with every thrust from the man she loved.

She leaned forward, placing a hand under his chin and pushing his head back until his neck was exposed to her. She traced her fingers down the side of his neck, leaving shiny trails of crystalline frost in their wake, making him shudder at her touch. The frost spiderwebbed across his skin, melting almost instantly from the heat of his body. She placed her fingertips at the base of his ear, frost unfurling from her touch, and flicked at the icy skin with her hot tongue causing him to moan and buck hard against her. His hands moved to her lower back, pressing her closer, his thumbs massaging circles upon her skin. That gave her an idea.

“Guide me, Solas.” She gave him a wicked grin and began to roll her hips in a circular motion, matching the speed and movement of his thumbs.

He growled low in his throat, their eyes locked upon one another as she clasped one hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder, gaining leverage for more intense movement.

“Guide me. Show me what you want me to do.” She raised her hips in a circular motion again, feeling him partially withdraw before thrusting deep within again.

Solas’ thumbs began to circle her back in large, slow circles. She matched his movement with slow, languid rotations, seeing him close his eyes each time she sheathed him and quickly opening them again to meet her gaze. He kissed her once, twice, and again, his breaths falling in time with her own.

Solas watched her attentively as she gyrated against him. His eyes trailed down her body, humming approvingly as her small breasts bounced before his gaze, and he sighed deeply as his gaze fell to the point where their bodies met. She rose and fell against him, his member stroking within her in long, slow thrusts.

His thumbs changed the pattern, smaller circles but still slow, just a bit faster. She changed to match him, rotating in the opposite direction, savoring each shudder of his skin, each kiss of his lips, each sensation of exquisite pleasure that was beginning to build up within her. Her grip on his shoulder was tightening, her fingers gripping more firmly at the back of his neck to bring their bodies even closer together, closing the distance between them.

Solas kissed her chin as she ground against him, her breasts pushed against his chest, and he nipped at her neck when she moaned. “Ma’alin,” he whispered against her neck. “Ma’alin.” So many times she had called his name but rarely had he called hers. Maybe once? She couldn’t remember now, it was all so fuzzy and far away, but the sound of her name on his lips felt divine. She smiled to herself, clenched around him hard, and heard her name end as a moan upon his lips.

His thumbs began to swirl quickly, smaller circles, and pressed deeper into her flesh. They were both so close and he was pressing her further to the brink! She tightened her movements, shifted direction again, and began to roll her hips in small, tight circles. She used her leverage to lift her body up and maximize the depth of his thrust. He cursed under his breath, rocking her hips forward with this hands with each rotation. She was breathing heavy, gasps bubbling up from the shockwaves of pleasure beginning to flutter deep within and build upon one another. Solas’ own breaths were ragged, his moans louder, and her name was becoming a chant upon his lips.

“Ma’alin. Ma’alin. Ma’alin....oh, Ma’alin... _fenedhis, Ma’alin_...” It drove her faster and each thrust was like an electric surge throughout her body. Everything began to tighten and twist, her breaths were coming harder and faster as his heart was beating a cadence against her chest. Everything was hot and slick and the sounds they made while their bodies were coupled together was a sweet addiction she never wanted to give up.

Solas tightened beneath her, his hands coming to her hips. “Quick now, vhenan. Come with me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips meeting one another in a hungry kiss. Solas pulled her hips into his with each thrust, driving deep within her, bursts of light starting to glimmer behind her closed eyes. Both of their bodies were taut with pent up pressure begging for release, the deep aching in her core answered by the throbbing of him inside her. Solas’ lips broke the kiss as he moaned loudly, thrusting more fervently. She pressed her forehead to his, their breaths intermingling as they both reached the pinnacle together, their bodies moving as one. Solas moaned and called out, grasping her tightly as his tension broke and he came inside her, warmth filling her as he trembled in her embrace and moaned her name. She followed him quickly, the pent up desire in her core exploding, shattering, and consuming them both.

She could hear him calling her name over her moans, his lips seeking hers and his teeth nipping her lower lip as she gasped hard trying to catch her breath. Everything was spinning, the lights were bursting, and her ears were ringing. His hot mouth was upon her neck, trailing up to her ear, and to her lips where he swallowed her moans and kissed her tenderly. Shivers ran down her body, her body arching against his as the last wave overtook her, making him shudder within her. He clung to her, his hands caressing her back, trailing through the lengths of her hair, and covering her in kisses as he hummed small moans of contentment.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed against her skin. “I did not think it was possible to love you more. I do. I do love you more, vhenan. Every day I find another reason to love you more.”

She caressed his face and smiled at him lovingly. “Sshh, save that. Remind me of that the next time I am mad at you.” He smiled in return, chuckling warmly.

“Tell me you love me, vhenan. Tell me I’m not dreaming you.” He wrapped her in his arms and rolled them onto the bed until he laid next to her.

“Ar lath ma, Solas. Now. _Always_. And if you are dreaming I pray we never wake.” He kissed the tip of her nose and drew her into his embrace.

“Ar lath ma, Ma’alin. Now and always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many visual cues for the dance nicked from Labyrinth. I have no shame.


	20. Like a Slow Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas revisits an old friend and is visited in return.

Solas walked the dark path through the trees, the trail barely visible in the dense blue darkness under the great canopy of the trees, feeling the indention of the worn path in the dirt with the soles of his feet and walking by feel. The dry leaves crunched beneath his feet, the sweet smell of earth drifting up from the rich black soil like an aged musk, and he conjured the memory of the last time he had walked this path. The last time he had walked these woods, it had been to say farewell to an old friend. Walking it now, his heart felt heavy, and his head hung low in remorse. 

Had he been wrong then? Was he wrong now? The answer was elusive as always. 

Solas could see the glow of the campfire through the break in the trees, a small clearing in the dense forest, and slowly drew closer. A hooded figure sat before the fire warming his hands, a mug of hot tea sitting on the ground next to his knee. The leaves crunched beneath his feet as he drew closer and the hooded figure did not stir. Solas walked the edge of the clearing, circling the firelight in the darkness, the amber glow of the fire mixing with the dark blue night and creating luminous shades of amethyst shadows that danced across his features. 

He stood opposite the figure, cloaked in the darkness, and leaned upon the rough bark of an ancient tree. The hooded figure sat cross-legged, alone, with a travel sack and staff laid at his side. His eyes were closed, his hands now resting upon his knees, taking deep and steady breaths. Solas knew with a look that he was sinking deep into the fade 

He left the shadows and entered the clearing, the firelight illuminating him and bathing him in an amber glow as he sat opposite the figure. Solas crossed his legs and sat staring across the flames at the elf in the dark green hooded cloak, watching the steam rise from his forgotten metal cup of brewed herbs. The flames danced across his face, the vallaslin illuminated and twisted, seeming to dance upon his features. Solas smiled sadly to himself, bowing his head as the tightness welled up in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, swallowing hard, and took a ragged breath. 

“Oh, Felassan...,” he whispered into the cool night air. “I am sorry.”

The elf across the flames did not stir. He would not stir, he was only a memory. Solas felt deep remorse and regret in the presence of his old friend. Felassan had lost sight of their goal and insisted that the quickened elves were real and worthy of the sacrifice of the remaining Elvhen. Solas could not take that chance, risking their people on the chance that these people could be redeemed, and Felassan was...had always been...a wild card. He was a loyal and devoted friend and agent, but his devotion to Briala had divided his loyalties. Solas made the only logical choice at the time and dispatched his agent. 

Only now, he was beginning to see the elves as his friend had. It had taken Ma’alin, the beautiful and strong Ma’alin, to show him that they were real and not just figments of the terrible nightmare he had awoken to find after so many years in Uthenera. Then there were the others, people he had begun to respect, and even appreciate. Varric. the Child of the Stone. The Seeker, Cassandra. The confessed spy, Iron Bull. Cole, the spirit who walked the world as a man. Warden Blackwall. Even Dorian and Sera. They did not know what had been lost though. And yet, he sometimes found himself thinking that the world was richer for their presence. 

Her world certainly was, that was certain. Felassan had believed in them, well, he had believed in Briala. What would he have thought of Ma’alin, he wondered. Solas looked at the man across from him, remembering his quick wit, and nodded. 

“You would have loved her. You would have fought for her just as you did for Briala. Perhaps more once you came to know her.” His words fell upon deaf ears as he watched the elf breathe in and out in deep contemplation. 

“And perhaps you were right. But perhaps not. You always were a bit of a gambler.” The memory of Felassan, so bright and witty with a sharp tongue, contrasted with his lackadaisical air of nonchalance, was a warm one he remembered fondly. He had such a way of using words to influence people, a special gift, that he rarely wasted. 

He had been Solas’ guide when he was in Uthenera, keeping him securely hidden from the rest of the world. He was the first face Solas had seen when he was awakened, telling him of the state of the world and what had transpired in his absence. Solas knew most of it. He had seen glimpses, seen the Dalish, the wars, the Blights, the changing of nations and power. But glimpses could not communicate the depth of the changes their world had succumbed to in his absence. 

Solas rose to his feet and stepped around the fire to stand at the side of his friend. Felassan had stood with him after the fall of Mythal. He had marched with him during the uprise of Shartan, following Mythal into battle under the banners and guise of Andraste. He had sought to follow Solas into the new age, but found himself more devoted to a young elven girl that had captured his faith and loyalty. Solas could not fault him for that, he understood the strength of the devotion, but it could not be a distraction for what was to come. And Felassan would have been a formidable foe should he have turned upon him to preserve his loyalty to Briala. 

It was a regrettable choice he had made and he felt it deeply. And yet, he had seen no other way of releasing his friend from his duty while preserving the cause they had fought so very hard for and that so many had died for. 

Solas laid his palm atop the cloaked figure’s head and held it there lovingly. 

“You have been missed, da’len. Please, forgive me.” 

Solas removed his hand from the figure, still feeling the warmth upon his fingertips, and waived his hand slowly in the mists. The figure began to disappear as if carried away in swirling wisps of fog. The fire became dark and Solas stood alone in the clearing. It was then that he began to sense another presence, far older and stronger than that of Felassan, in the distance. Someone else was intruding upon his walk in the fade. 

Solas stepped behind the trees, shifting into a dark vaporous mass before emerging into the wood as the Dread Wolf. He moved slowly, silently, through the treeline towards the presence. He could feel it bending the fade, tearing at the veil to make it’s way into his memory, but it was too far to discern identity. He continued to stalk closer. 

The woods ended at the bank of a slow river and the wolf crouched there in the darkness, waiting. Slowly the veil began to tear, arcs of amber light and pure energy cracking at the base of an old, twisted tree as the veil was turned in upon itself. Suddenly the veil burst open wide with a crack like lightening and a figure stepped through in blinding light just before it closed behind them. Solas could no longer see in the darkness, golden spots burned into his eyes prevented him from seeing the figure fully. 

“Well, well....what have we here?” The voice was deep and warm, cracked with age. He would know that voice anywhere! Solas shifted quickly back to his form and stepped out from the edges of the darkness. 

Mythal stood before him in all her glory. She was an old woman now, Flemeth, but with loving eyes he could see her as she had been. Beautiful, regal, commanding, and so graceful. 

Solas strode to her quickly, a smile upon his lips, and she watched him as he came to her. They stood before one another, eyes never leaving one another, and she held out her hand to him. 

“My old friend...” she said. He took her hand, and kissed the back of it gently. 

“My friend” he answered her, releasing her hand. She smiled at him warmly but sadly. 

“Too often you visit the dead, Dread Wolf. Let them rest in peace so that you may have peace.” She wasted no time in scolding him, but then she never did. She was always the protective one. 

“There is no peace as long as our people are kept locked away. Besides, many of those dead were my friends. I will not forget their sacrifice.” Solas thought of Felassan and a twinge of pain echoed in his chest. 

“You always had a flair for the dramatic, Solas. Lest you forget, I know that Felassan’s sacrifice was your own and not his. Best you not forget, either.” Mythal reached up to cup his cheek in the palm of her hand to lessen the sting of her words. Solas turned his face into her palm, reaching up to hold her wrist with both of his hands, and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand. 

“Forgetting is dangerous, Solas. You know this, and yet you willfully turn a blind eye to what you do not want to see. Sometimes I worry that you can not see it at all and that worries me even more.” She pulled her hand away from him gently. 

“Can not see what, my friend?” he asked her, curious where this was leading. 

Mythal sighed heavily. “That is what worries me. Walk with me, Solas. Take my hand.” Solas offered her his arm and she looped hers through his, leaning into him as they walked side by side down the bank of the river. The silence between them was comfortable, no words needed to be spoken to fill the air. They had been friends, close friends, for so long that the other’s presence felt as natural as breathing. 

Mythal. The name alone spread warmth through his chest. In Arlathan they had made plans together for the people, for the expansion of the empire and their culture. They had been younger then, more ambitious. When the trappings of power were laid at their feet they had embraced them with abandon. However, unlike the other Evanuris, he and Mythal knew the weight of the responsibility they bore. She had shown him the plight of their people, the threats they faced from the other Evanuris, and had been a role-model for compassion and fair justice. She was a calming influence to his younger days of hot-headed impulsiveness, over indulgence, and reckless abandon. 

Her influence had greatly shaped the man he was today. He loved her with a reverence that could not be quelled. He had fought for her, nearly died for her, killed for her. And when the Evanuris turned upon her, he punished them for their unforgivable actions. History and tales of Mythal and Fen’harel, Andraste and Shartan, hinted at a forbidden romance that inspired his devotion. Such tales were too ridiculous for him to even consider. The love he felt for her, and she for him, transcended such desires and was deep devotion and friendship incarnate. He loved her with all his being, but theirs was not a love born of desire and passion, but one of mutual respect and companionship. 

She was the woman he compared all other women to and they were all found to be wanting in comparison, except one. Solas could not help but smile to himself as he found himself thinking of Ma’alin while Mythal walked by his side. In another world, Ma’alin could have been much like Mythal. 

“I can not remember the last time I saw you smile in such a way, Solas.” They stopped at a gathering of large rocks that marked the river bank’s edge. Solas held her arm as she lowered herself to sit upon the edge of a stone that made a natural bench. Once she was seated, he sat beside her, resting his elbows upon his knees, eyes fixed upon the slow eddies of water that flowed languidly down the river. 

Mythal’s eyes were upon him, studying him. She was so observant, ever the watchful and dutiful matron who looked upon all people as her flock. “Tell me, Solas. Who is she?”

He smiled and shook his head, a soft chuckle escaped his lips and ended with a muffled snort. “Is there nothing you do not see?” he asked her. 

“I see more than you know, and that was not an answer, Solas.” Her voice was filled with the type of wisdom that comes with age and experience. She turned to face him and give him her undivided attention. “Now tell me all.”

Solas glanced at her from the side and shook his head knowingly. “I doubt there is little you do not already know. The rest...well, the rest is too private.” 

“Humor an old friend. I know it is the Inquisitor, which is curious enough, but that she is also Dalish. Clan Lavellan, yes? But not Lavellan by birth, rather Clan Sabrae. Hmm. I’m curious how you came to notice her.” Her voice had softened, enticing him to confide his secrets that he had kept to himself alone. 

“It is strange, but I met her first while I still slumbered. She was but a child, abandoned amidst death and chaos. Something in her...it called out to me. Perhaps I am attributing too much sentiment to the memory, perhaps it was merely chance, but I remember there being something there that pulled me to her.” He paused to consider his words, a thought he had not given voice to before. He wondered, had the pull always been there or had it come later with the anchor? 

“Perhaps it was not chance that drew you to her. Please, continue. It’s been too long since I’ve heard anyone speak of such things.” Mythal crossed her legs, leaned her elbow on her knee and rested her chin on the top of her clasped hand. 

“Her clan was murdered, an offshoot of the Sabrae clan like you said, and I took her to the Lavellan clan.” 

“You took her? How?” She questioned, her brow arched curiously. 

“In guise of the wolf. I found that I was able to cross over from the fade in my dreams and I could walk the land as the wolf. It’s not something I’ve been able to do since waking, until recently. But I digress. I encountered her again. It was years later and she was but a girl. I heard prayers that called my name and, curious as I was, I came to see who still called out to me. It had been so long since someone had needed me, or wanted me, and I wanted to help...” his voice trailed off as he recalled the memory of the young rogue huntress running through the woods, praying to a forsaken God, all the while being pursued by a villain with foul intentions. 

“And did you feel that pull you described? Did you feel a connection to her even then?” Mythal leaned closer to him, intent for an answer. 

Solas sat silent for a moment, recalling the memory. “Dread Wolf protect me,” she had said, there was no mistaking the presence of the sensation, and yet the answer still surprised him. 

“Yes. Yes, I did. I felt it keenly.” Solas shivered as the realization hit home that yes, he really had felt the pull to her even then, without the anchor. It was not a figment of his imagination or a sentimental wish upon old memories. 

“Tell me, what did it it feel like?” Mythal’s voice was soothing and calm, an elixir to the rising excitement he was beginning to feel. He turned to face her, his eyes wide with a newly realized clarity. 

“It felt...it feels like there is an invisible thread that connects her to me and me to her. I can sense her, feel a part of her that is so familiar that it feels like a part of myself. She has told me that she feels the same. Each time I am with her it grows stronger. And when we are apart, it tugs at me as if it were a constant reminder of the direction I should be traveling that leads me back to her. I nearly lost that connection once and it’s absence,...it left a great emptiness until we were reunited.” 

Mythal looked at him, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She reached to take his hand in hers and he grasped it with both hands, holding her warm fingers in his reverently. 

“You love her.” It was not a question. She squeezed his hand in reassurance as he turned away from her to stare out across the water. Warm thoughts of Ma’alin and their future were always followed by the feeling of fear and the dread of loss.

“Yes, but at what cost? I nearly lost her once already. There is no future to plan. We never know what tomorrow will cost us. She knows that as well as I. The threat of Corypheus, the breach...even if we are successful in defeating him, what then?” Solas tried to think of a world in which there was no constant threat of death and defeat, a world where there were no more burdens for her to carry, a world where they could make long-term plans...and he could not envision such a place. It was too pure, too distant, too surreal to wander into lest he find that he never wanted to leave. 

“You should not have given your orb to Corypheus, my friend. And yet, the deed is done and as long as the music plays we dance, do we not, Solas? Only the music changes.” Her fingers stretched within his palm to entwine with his. Solas closed his eyes and hung his head. 

“Once Corypheus is defeated, I will free our people. I should not have let myself become involved with her. It is a mistake. I will only hurt her.” Solas felt the deep ache in his chest just at the thought of losing her. To never hold her again, never see her again, it might kill them both but it would also be an act in kindness. She would have the chance to love another, a better man than he could ever be, a man who could give her a future.

Mythal sighed heavily at his side. “Why must it always be extremes with you, Solas? There is no compromise? A great change is coming, you and I know that, but I look at the world and I see a vision of hope. Of renewal. Of resurrection.” Her voice lifted with excitement and fervor. Her excitement was always contagious. 

“Our people will rise again and we will restore what was ours. There will be a cost, that is the inevitable price of change, but it need not be one of sacrifice. Solas, look at me.” She reached to grab his chin, turning his face to hers, their eyes locked upon one another. 

“Hear my words, Dread Wolf. You deserve every bit of love and happiness that can be found. Do not deny yourself that which was destined for you. To do so would only cause irreperable sorrow to you both.” Solas searched her eyes, grasping at her words. Her words were always heavily laden with meaning and never without purpose. 

“Destined? My friend...do not placate me. It does not make the situation I find myself in any easier.” Solas released her hand and turned from her softened eyes, running his hands over his face. She had a trick up her sleeve or else she would not have come. Mythal rose from the bench and stepped away from him, her silhouette lit by the blue moonlight bouncing off the water.

“Solas, let me tell you a story about destiny, of fate and of things that are meant to be. A noble woman has a child, a girl. A beautiful girl, but not an heir. So she has more children, born of love and duty to her husband, and all of them girls. Her husband wants a male child, an heir, but there are none to be had. And in the end, the misfortune becomes a blessing when the husband turns on her in spite, casts her off, accuses her of bewitchment, turns vengeful and declares war upon her people.” Solas watched her as she told the tale, her eyes staring into the water, unseeing, as if reliving some distant memory. He began to wonder if she was alluding to Elgar’nan or of the tales of Andraste and Maferath. 

“As punishment for his hubris and atrocities, he and all his heirs were to be struck down. But his daughters born of his true wife are not his heirs. Unlike his bastard sons of whores, they live. They thrive. And fortune blesses these daughters with more daughters.” He’d heard these tales before. He knew of Mythal’s daughters. Most had been lost to history, fate unknown. He felt a deep sorrow for her loss as her story continued. 

“Fate’s heavy hand divines the course of our lives, our children’s lives, and our legacy. But, sometimes fate is generous and we are dealt a hand that can shake nations.” She turned to him slowly, and drew closer to kneel before him. Solas searched her eyes for an explanation and could feel her intensity radiating around him like a storm. She reached to place a hand upon his cheek, letting her hand slide down in a loving caress until it came to rest at the nape of his neck. 

“Fate has dealt us both a card that has the power to reshape this world. For me, it is the promise of renewal and of prayers answered. For you, it is the promise of hope and of a second chance at love.” Solas swallowed hard. He did not understand. His brow furrowed, he shook his head slowly in confusion. The meaning of her words was slipping through his fingers. 

“Destiny shapes a path for what is to come, leading us down these paths as we walk, unknowing we are not alone. We rage at the heavens and ask ‘why’ never knowing that we are but a piece of the great puzzle. A woman gives birth to only daughters, cursing her misfortune to not bear sons, only to later learn that her misfortune was a gift from Fate that saved her children. And her children’s children, for ages and ages to come.” She looked into his eyes, her own eyes earnest and forthright, willing him to see. Her story was the story of Mythal. Of Andraste. Of Flemeth. She was them and they were her. Each woman had only born female children. 

“What are you trying to tell me, friend?” Solas held his breath in anticipation. Whatever he had imagined in his mind, it did not prepare him for her answer. 

“Solas, I know your Inquisitor, your love. I have known her since the day she was born.” Solas’ hand clasped onto her wrist at his neck, holding tight, as an anguished gasp fell from his lips. He could not breathe and felt as if the ground had been pulled from beneath him, falling into nothingness. It was not possible. And yet nothing was impossible with Mythal. She made all things possible through sheer will. 

“Hear me, old friend. Stay with me.” Her soothing voice called to him and he focused upon it, still clinging to her as she leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his as her other arm held his knees against her waist. She was drawing him in to herself for comfort and he could not find it in himself to resist her. 

“I know your Inquisitor. I’ve watched her closely for years. She possesses such strength, such vibrancy in the face of hardship. And why wouldn’t she? Ma’alin is a daughter of my daughter’s daughters. Unlike my other daughters, such as Morrigan born of Flemeth, she descends from the line of Elgar’nan and myself. Her mother was U’vunlea, a very powerful invoker of spirits.” 

“Tell me you had nothing to do with this. You did not come here to tell me she is your creature, just a pawn, pretending...” Solas growled, choking back the emotion that was building up inside him. Mythal gave him a kiss on his forehead and held him close. 

“No, my dear one. Do not fear. She knows me not. Nor does she remember her mother.” She pulled back to look into his eyes once more. “There are things you do not know about her, things that she does not even know of herself. Her mother, U’vunlea was Somniari, like you, and that child was touched by the fade long before she ever bore your anchor, Solas. That is one reason why she is able to bear your mark with the fortitude and skill that she does.” 

“The ability is in her blood. Your blood. That is it, is it not? That is what marks her as different?” Solas thought of her face, the curves of softness and the hard angles, the sweet mixture of the yielding and the resolute. How many times had he compared her to his beloved Mythal? He felt like a fool. 

“Really, Solas, the blood? Blood is blood. It is the fountain from which her mana flows but it does not make her who she is. When you are with her do you ever find yourself wondering why she is so different from the others? Have you never asked yourself what makes her unique above all others besides the fact that you love her? Surely you’ve wondered why you love her and not one of our people? You’ve questioned the nature of the connection between you, have you not?”

She was right, he had. It had been bubbling under the surface but it was not a question he had been prepared to answer, because he had no answers, other than he loved her, respected her, admired her, and wanted her above all others. 

Mythal smiled and grasped his hands in hers. 

“You who walk amongst the spirits and call them friend, you should have seen it first. That child has been touched by powerful spirits. Patience. Perseverance. Humility. Devotion. Even your beloved Wisdom and Compassion. That was her mother’s legacy before her death.” She placed her hand upon his chest above his heart. “And now, she has even been touched by Pride.” She rose from her knees to sit beside him once more, holding his hands in her own like a protective mother. 

“We can cry out to the abyss and ask if it is fate or chance, but there are no answers there, Solas. This much we know; Ma’alin possesses many of the same gifts you possess, even if they are yet to be realized. Like you, she has known the ancient spirits and been influenced by them. Like me, she loves you with her entire being. Granted, it is a different type of love that you and I share, but then there are many types of love. That does not change the depth with which we feel them.” She looked to him and smiled warmly, relieving some of the ache he felt in his chest. He felt lost for words. 

“Part of your connection to her is the mutual connection you share with spirits. But that is only part of it, Solas. You found her because I helped you find her. The rest was accomplished on your own and needed no nudging from me.”

Solas chuckled wryly despite himself. “Less like a nudge, more like a push from a cliff.” 

“When it is needed, and with your stubborn refusal to see, a shove was needed.”

They sat in silence while he pondered her words. How much had she influenced their meeting? What if they had never met? What if she were not the one to intercept his foci? “If she were not a descendant of the Evanuris, if she had never been touched by the spirits, or become the Inquisitor....”

“Do I think it would have made a difference? Would you have gone your separate ways? Would you have never met? No. Fate will always find a way. It might have taken longer, but I know that destiny has shaped you for one another.” She squeezed his hand tightly and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to pull him to her in a warm embrace that soothed the raw feeling of stirred emotions and chased away his personal fears. 

“She would have to have been touched by Patience himself in order to love you, my stubborn friend. And she does love you.” Solas laughed despite himself and kissed her on her weathered cheek. 

“Try not to hold that against her.” His words were in jest but she nodded her head and smiled in amusement. She breathed deeply and then her tone turned more serious. 

“Solas, consider the future. Whatever may come, there are those who love you. Never forget that. I know your duty and your loyalty to the people. All I ask is that you consider all the options. And when the moment comes, do not let your fear rule your heart.”

Solas nodded his head. She knew him too well. 

“Your Inquisitor has an important role to play in the future, for herself and for our people. She will need you, just as I needed you.” She kissed him once more on the forehead before leaving his embrace. She looked at him with a mischievous smile not unlike Ma’alin’s. 

“I get the feeling your Inquisitor and I shall meet very soon. My Morrigan knows the way, though she has yet to realize it. A little nudging on my part should do the trick.” Solas rose and stood beside her, suddenly feeling very tired. Her energy was so vibrant that it was like looking into the sun. 

“It is time to say goodbye, dear heart, a new day dawns. Now, hug an old woman and remember what I’ve told you.” She stepped into his embrace as he folded his arms around her. It had been too long since he last held her and it felt as if nothing had changed. They had been different people then, on a different mission, but as she had said...the dance remained the same, only the music changed. 

Before he could say goodbye, she was gone, nothing but wisps remained in his arms. 

Solas sat in silence for a long time. He felt humbled and numbed by the implications of Mythal’s words. 

Ma’alin. The Inquisitor. Leader of nations. Descendant of the most powerful Evanuris. Touched by the fade. Andraste’s Herald. All this rested on the shoulders of a mortal woman, a Dalish elf without a clan or a home save for Skyhold. And she had chosen him. 

He thought of Felassan and his devotion to Briala, a mortal woman who fought for their people, and the depth of his loyalty to her that led to his death. Solas shook his head in regret. He was no different, he could see that now. He would follow Ma’alin into the depths of the abyss if she asked him to. 

She was real. If there were more like her then it was possible that the world was a vastly different place than he had first concluded. 

The realization was too late to save Felassan, but like his beloved Wisdom, Solas hoped to someday find his friend again. The time to ask for forgiveness would be then, not to a shade in a memory of the fade. Solas closed his eyes and released his grip of the veil, feeling it sink and fall away from him into nothingness. 

He opened his eyes to see the first rays of sunlight streaming through the skylights above her bed, her head tucked into the hollow of his neck and her body wrapped around him. Her soft breaths upon his skin meant she was still fast asleep. Solas’ hand caressed her cheek, his fingers tracing the faint golden branches of the tree of Mythal that curved across her cheeks. He took a deep breath and held it when he felt the burning tightness in his throat that happened so often when he was touched by something that moved him deeply. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, meeting his with a loving glance from beneath heavy lashes. 

“Vhenan,” he whispered. 

“Vhenan’ara” she answered in her warm voice, placing a kiss upon his collarbone before closing her eyes once again. Her soft breaths returned and she fell into a deep sleep once more. Solas watched her sleep, memorizing every detail of her face. 

Yes, he could see much of Mythal in her. More than that, he could see a future he had never dared to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout out to angel-of-broadway for the recommendation of the name for Ma'alin's mother. It means 'star light' and is a nod to her pale white hair color. 
> 
> There is a lot of dialogue in this chapter, and it's a bit of an information dump, but I really enjoyed exploring Solas' relationship with Mythal and acknowledging his feelings towards Felassan.


	21. Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I chose not to pursue illustrating the events of Adamant. Other writers have done it better and we've all played through it so no need in rehashing it. 
> 
> I asked readers on tumblr if they wanted sexy Solavellan smut or magic lessons with Dorian and Solas. Magic lessons won this round. 
> 
> Also, one detail has been rewritten in the previous chapters to align with this one. Previously I had Celene, Gaspard, and Briala as co-rulers of Orlais. That has been amended. Celene was assassinated at Halamshiral and Gaspard and Briala rule Orlais.

> __
> 
> To His Majesty, King Alistair Theirin, 
> 
> __
> 
> It is with a heavy heart that I write to inform you of the events of Adamant and the status of the Wardens. The siege of Adamant exceeded a fortnight, and there were considerable losses to the Wardens as well as the Inquisition. I am told the losses were “acceptable” in number yet what can ever be deemed acceptable when it is good men and women who are lost? I suspect you and I would agree in this matter. 
> 
> __
> 
> I regret to say that the Warden’s suffered many losses at their own hands even before our arrival. Corypheus’ influence corrupted most of the mages, and in their misguided attempt to stop the blight, many turned to blood magic and sacrificing their own. No doubt the details have already reached you. Rest assured, we saved all we could, and you will be proud to know many of the Wardens aided us in the liberation. 
> 
> __
> 
> Despite their losses, the Wardens are still a formidable force. For reasons I am sure you will understand, I have conscripted the Wardens under the protection of the Inquisition for the time being. Many disagree with my decision but I believe every effort should be made to save the remaining mages and help the Wardens rebuild. Thedas owes the Wardens a great debt, and to our King for his service in the order, and I believe that the Wardens have the strength to serve and reclaim their great name. Once the threat of Corypheus is ended, and the mages are free from corruption, the Inquisition will drop all claim to the overseeing of the Wardens, as it should be. 
> 
> __
> 
> Thank you for the supplies and the reinforcements. If there is anything the Inquisition can do to aid His Majesty, we would be honored to serve. 
> 
> __
> 
> Dareth shiral, 
> 
> __
> 
> Inquisitor Ma’alin Lavellan
> 
> __

Ma’alin sat back in her chair and stared at the stack of letters upon her desk. One down, many to go. She leaned back to stretch her shoulders, wincing at a twinge of pain that ached between her shoulders. 

“You need to take a break, vhenan.” Solas reclined upon her bed, propped up against her ancient headboard, with papers and books of his own spread about him. More research on the fade, no doubt. He did not look up. He knew she would not heed him, but his doting reassured her. Josie sat across the desk from her, looking up briefly from her correspondence to nod her head in agreement, smiling at the fact that there was now someone else besides her telling the Inquisitor that she was working too hard. 

Josie was assisting her with the letters of state that needed to be addressed and coaching her on formal salutations, diplomatic proposals, and political maneuvers. Ma’alin preferred they do this together in her quarters where she could think. Solas’ presence was not an unwelcome event, though unexpected. His studies were usually reserved for his solitary time in his rotunda. Lately, he seemed more casual and more relaxed, and more at home in her space, than he had ever been before. 

At Adamant, they had disagreed over the outcome of the Wardens. Solas fervently cautioned that the Wardens should be disbanded or exiled from Thedas due to their corruption and the unknown consequences of the killing of the archdemons to end the blights. She defended her decision just as fervently. The Wardens were the heroes of Thedas and they deserved a second chance. She grew up hearing tales of Garahel, the elven Grey Warden who made the ultimate sacrifice to slay the archdemon and end the fourth blight, who was a hero to the elves and renowned for his ability to unite many kingdoms under one banner. She could relate to the hero of her childhood tales now more than ever. Solas accused her of letting her sentimentality rule her decision, which had angered her. She tried to be as fair and unbiased as possible in her decisions. Perhaps he had been right though, but it was her decision, and it was her legacy as he was so fond of reminding her. In the end, he supported her decision despite his reservations, and was the first to enlist aid for the rehabilitation of the Warden mages under the care of the Inquisition. Solas could be called many things but uncaring was not one of them. 

Ma’alin looked across the desk at Josie as she alternated between scribbling with determination and tapping the end of her quill on her folio while lost in thought. Ma’alin slid her letter to King Alistair across the desk to her. 

“Take a look at this. What’s next?” Josie flipped through her papers and pulled out a sealed letter with the royal mark of Orlais stamped into the wax. 

“A letter from Lady Briala, addressed to Your Grace.” 

“ _Your Grace_ …I’ll never get used to that.” Ma’alin took the letter and broke the wax seal, unfurling the parchment. Briala had neat penmanship and was obviously more practiced at crafting formal letters of state than Ma’alin was. 

> __
> 
> Your Grace, Dear Inquisitor,
> 
> __
> 
> Sad news of Adamant has reached us at the Capital. You have my deepest condolences for your losses. Per our previous discussions, we shall observe 3 days of mourning to honor those who fought bravely. 
> 
> __
> 
> The recruits you sent arrived two days ago and they will be a welcome addition to my agents. I will place them personally in networks that will be most advantageous for you. All future correspondence regarding the information gathered shall be sent to your Spymaster per your request. I appreciate your efforts to uphold our agreement and your efforts to aid in assisting the elves in the alienages. I firmly believe we shall see great changes in the future of our people. 
> 
> __
> 
> Emperor Gaspard sends his regards, and wishes you to know that he still holds you in the highest esteem. He renews his desire to bestow upon you the title of **Maîtresse-en-titre** and his promise to provide great aid to the Inquisition with your alliance. He is ardent in his ‘affections’ and wishes you would reply to his letters. 
> 
> __
> 
> Please, do not blame the messenger. I figured you would get as much amusement from his regards as it amused me to relate them. 
> 
> __
> 
> Visit us soon, we have many matters to discuss. Again, my condolences for your losses and I congratulate you on your victory. 
> 
> __
> 
> Lady Briala
> 
> __

 

“Gaspard renews his ‘affections’, she says. _Maîtresse-en-titre_?” Ma’alin looked across the letter to Josephine. Her instant look of dismay was a good indicator of just what the Emperor was proposing. Solas answered first. 

“Official Mistress to the Crown.” He looked up from his book and quickly closed it shut, his full attention upon her. Josephine was stunned into silence, her eyes wide. She quickly collected herself. 

“Official mistress? He can not be serious?” Josephine took the letter and quickly scanned it over. “He is serious! But the things he said to you, his condemnation of the elves…” She was incredulous and at a loss for words. Ma'alin was not so surprised.

“Indeed. But the Duke, forgive me, the Emperor…is a practical man with a desire for more power and to be out from under the thumb of Briala and the Inquisition. He would sleep better at night knowing the Inquisition was beholden to him and not a force that controls his every move.” Ma’alin leaned back and propped her boots on the edge of her desk and met Josephine’s gaze. Josie bit her lip. “Plus we know he keeps a household of attractive elven servants for his ‘needs’ despite his political views of elves in general.”

Josie glanced over her shoulder at Solas, now sitting on the edge of the bed and listening intently, and back to Ma’alin. 

“As your political advisor, it is my duty to inform you that the position of official mistress to the Emperor would bring great influence and resources to the Inquisition, which are things we are always in great need of and will continue to need in the future,” Josie said cautiously. Ma’alin heard a book snap shut from across the room as Solas rose from the bed. Josie coughed to clear her throat. 

“However, aligning with Orlais could greatly hinder any future attempts to align with Tevinter as well as threaten those alliances we have already formed with Fereldan.” Josie was trying hard not to look over her shoulder at the tall elven man now pacing back and forth across the room behind her, his countenance radiating displeasure. Ma’alin fought back a smile and tried very hard to appear serious. 

“Inquisitor…there are many benefits for our cause that would come from the Emperor’s proposal. But, as your friend….” She couldn’t help herself and Josephine stole a glance over her shoulder to see Solas’ furrowed brow as he stalked across her embroidered carpets. Josie turned away quickly to face Ma’alin’s amused gaze. 

“As your friend, I would advise you to do as you see prudent.” The pacing stilled behind her and she took a shaky breath before smiling again. Solas leaned against the fireplace, his arms crossed, as Ma’alin met his hungry gaze over Josie’s shoulder. 

“As far as I’m concerned, the Emperor Gaspard can kiss my…”

“Vhenan.” Solas chided her from across the room. 

“I was thinking of something much lower, Solas, but as you wish.” A coy smile spread upon his lips as he snorted at her retort. 

Josie gathered her things quickly. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll see to the rest of these.” She nodded to Solas as she whisked past him, making a hasty retreat down the steps. 

Ma’alin leaned back in her chair, her boots still resting upon the edge of her desk, as she met Solas’ gaze from the fireplace. His arms were still crossed across his chest as he leaned against the hearth with an air of feigned nonchalance. The firelight played tricks across his features in the afternoon shadows, giving the illusion of flames dancing across his gaze. 

“Thoughts?” she asked, observing his brow arch questioningly and the fingers of his right hand tapping out a determined cadence upon his ribcage. 

“I wonder if your decision would be the same if…”

“If I were not with you?” She finished his thoughts just as easily as he often finished hers. 

“Yes.” His answer was short but not sharp. There was a genuine curiosity to his question. 

“I suppose it would depend on the circumstances we found ourselves in as to whether or not I would consider it. If we lacked the power and resources to be effective and take care of our people, I suppose I would consider a political union if the benefits outweighed the cost.” She rocked her chair back and watched his countenance grow dark. 

“The costs? You and I both know what he is asking for is more than a mere ‘political union’…especially since he is willing to publicly acknowledge you as his official mistress.” That last word rolled off his tongue as if it were distasteful to him. 

“I know what he is asking, Solas. He made his initial intentions very clear at Halamshiral. I denied him then so I’m sure my current answer will come as no surprise.” 

Solas crossed over to her desk and sat upon the edge, his hip next to her boots, his fingers curled around the edges in a loose grip, and looked down upon her curiously. 

“You would sacrifice your will and desires for the Inquisition?” His voice softened as he searched her face. 

“I would give all for the people I am responsible to protect. You would do the same.I don’t see why that should surprise you.”

Solas looked down at his hands, his brow furrowed, as he traced his fingers up her boot, to her knee, and gently caressed the inner curve of her thigh. Shivers ran through her with the sensation of his feathery touch. When he replied his voice was low and soft. 

“Yes, but for you, the cost is too much to fathom. The price is too high. It is one you shall never have to pay. I will make sure of that for as long as I live.” His eyes met hers as she reached to take his hand, her thumb stoking the back of his hand. 

“And how would you do that, Solas?” 

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand longingly, his lips lingering there as a warm sigh spread across her skin. He looked up from her hand, his lips still brushing against her knuckles. 

“I would do anything. For you.” His words alone sent a warm tingling sensation through her. She couldn’t help but smile. This conversation sounded just like the one at Haven when she had promised to protect him anyway she could. Then it had been a promise to protect an apostate, an elven apostate, from those who would persecute him and the threat of tranquility. If she knew then what she knew now she would have been more personally invested in getting to know him at Haven. 

She squeezed his hand in thanks. He resumed his relaxed posture, his hand now resting upon her right boot with his fingers curled around her small ankle. She took a deep breath. She had yet to ask him about certain events in the fade. No time like the present. 

“Solas, there’s something I’ve been wondering…tell me about your fear. Dying alone?” He didn’t react, didn't fidget, or change expression. He had been expecting this question. 

“Hmm. It seems rather self-explanatory. However, you are not one to accept superficial answers.” He smiled gently. “The truth is I’ve spent a great deal of time alone, have chosen the solitary path time and again. When you walk alone you have no fear of hurting anyone…there is no one else to pay the price for your actions.”

Secrets, she thought to herself. His past, his actions, his motivations…always came back to those parts of him that were still a mystery to her. She had trust that he would reveal them to her in time. Until then, she pitied the fact that this beautiful, complex man thought he was such a burden that his punishment for life was loneliness. 

“I do not fear being alone. But to be understood, to know love, to be loved in return…” He swallowed hard and looked away from her, his eyes focusing on the distant horizon of the mountains outside her windows. For a moment he was lost, as if remembering another world, before he refocused his gaze upon her. “These things change you. Your love reminds me of who I am, and of who I want to be. It also reminds me of what I stand to lose, and of what I have already lost. Dying alone would mean I have lost that which makes me feel alive. Hopeful. Loved.” 

Ma’alin rose from her chair and stepped into his embrace, her arms folding around his neck as her lips met his. He pulled her into him, his arms wrapped around her gently, pressing his forehead to hers. She kissed him slowly, her kisses spreading to his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his jaw, before making their way back to his parted lips. 

“You are loved, Solas. You shall always be loved. Death could never sever that.” He hummed his approval, his happiness radiating against her in the warmth of their embrace. He was finally beginning to accept her affections without the constant resistance and quick reminder of his supposed unworthiness. It would take time but she had every intention of showing him that he was worthy of being loved. He held her in his embrace, his chin resting upon her shoulder, in no rush of letting her go. He seemed so much calmer lately, less keen to let her go, less anxious in his habits of pacing and wringing his hands. She couldn’t help but wonder what the change had been and what had transpired that he had finally given himself the permission to let go of his constant restraint and reserve. 

She wanted to ask him about what Fear had said to him in the fade. 

_“Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din.”_ Loosely translated, she could make out this much. _Know this, trickster’…or was it betrayer? You have failed. Your pride led, or was it ‘will lead’?, to your downfall._ Times like this made her wish the Lavellan clan had not been so progressive and had retained more of their native language rather than adopting Orlesian and the common language. 

She wanted to ask to him, but she would not. Not now, at least. Adamant was too raw, and her companions each had their personal fears exposed for all to see, Fear tormenting them with their past mistakes and insecurities. In the cemetery that Fear built, only her headstone had stood empty and unmarked. Everyone was too preoccupied with confronting their own personal demons to notice and she was thankful for that small mercy. 

A loud disgusted noise sounded from the staircase. 

“Really, could you two be any more nauseating? All this cuddling and kissing and carrying on! I think Varric is right about elves and your frivolous frolicking. Careful, you know what that can lead to, and I’m not ready to be an uncle yet.” Dorian leaned against the banister with a disapproving look upon his face. Ma’alin smiled warmly as she kissed Solas on the cheek once more before leaving his embrace. Dorian’s bluster was all a show and one that he enjoyed greatly. Solas, not so much. 

“Does he never knock?” Solas growled. 

“Didn’t need to. After seeing your Ambassador recently flee from here in a hurry I figured you were still reasonably dressed. So, are we going to do this or not? We’re losing daylight.”

“Yes, I’ve been practicing. Time to see if that’s paid off. Come, Solas, I need you.” Ma’alin slipped on her jacket and passed Dorian on the landing, Solas quickly fell in step behind them. Dorian grunted as they descended the stairs. 

“Practice, she says. Let’s hope she doesn’t burn down the place. Or blow our eyebrows off.” She heard Solas snort in agreement despite himself. Let them have their laugh, she thought. She had been practicing in her spare time, reading up on methods to draw on her mana and focus her magic. She was determined to gain control over it rather than it controlling her. She refused to fear her magic anymore. Too many were paying the cost for being born mages for her to continue to pretend she was not one of them. 

They cleared out the upper courtyard, Solas creating a ring of protective barriers to prevent stray magic from escaping the ring. Dorian began warming up, his staff a blur as he spun it in dizzying whirls and flourishes. Kinetic arcs and auras swirled about him with a flashiness that was his trademark. Ma’alin was in awe at his skill.

“Come to join me, Solas? Care to test your barrier skills against my nullifications?” He grinned as he leaned upon his staff. Solas shook his head. 

“Another time. However, I notice you use a nullification enchantment combined with an offensive attack when you are in the front line.” 

Dorian grinned some more and puffed up at the fact that Solas had noticed his skill. “The nullification disrupts any ambient magic lying about. Things then burn hotter. And let’s face it, hotter is better.”   
Ma’alin watched Solas’ brow furrow as he considered Dorian’s explanation. “Don’t you then waste an inordinate amount of magic that might be better reserved in order to overcome your own nullification?”

Ma’alin didn’t quite understand the mechanics of the magical casting techniques but the verbal back and forth between Solas and Dorian was pure entertainment. At least in moments like this they were more apt to forget their differences. 

“Ah, no,” Dorian clarified. “I warp the veil slightly to effect distance between the spells.”

Solas considered this for a moment. “Ah, of course. I see that now. Have you considered snapping the veil-warp to enhance the relative energy?” 

Ma’alin felt lost. This conversation had gone over her head. 

Dorian smirked. “Like cracking a whip? Yes, I tried it once. Made my teeth taste funny.”

Solas chuckled. “Yes, it does that. Try doing it in a lightning storm. You will be tasting metal for a week.”

Dorian shook his head. “You are a strange, strange man, Solas, you know that?” 

“So I’ve been told. Shall we begin?” Solas crossed the ring to place the practice dummy upon the pole. Ma’alin was still pondering half of that conversation when Dorian beckoned her over. He handed her a standard issue yew staff and began to show her proper hand placement and stance. 

“Hold it firmly but not tightly. Feet shoulder width apart. When drawing upon your mana, lean back just a bit to steady your balance and feel the pull here.” He pressed his palm upon her abdomen just above her navel. She nodded in understanding. 

“Have you decided upon a school of magic? Elemental? Psychic? Necromancy? Or will you go the way of your lover and pursue Rift magic?” Dorian stood before her, assessing his pupil. He tsked before reaching out to roll up her sleeves above her wrists, so dutiful in his doting upon her. 

“I was thinking of Spirit magic.” Dorian stopped short, a look of surprise registering clearly upon his face. Solas also stopped short and turned from his renewed barrier casting. 

“What? Why do you look so surprised? It’s a fade magic, is it not? I have a direct tie to the fade through the mark and with Cole and Solas here I have two great advisors on the nature of the magic. It seems like a logical choice to me, and my studies say it is an underutilized magic and one we have a need for.” 

The furrow had returned to Solas’ brow. “You would conjure spirits?” There was an edge to his voice. She knew exactly how he felt about such matters after seeing him decimate the mages that had conjured and twisted his friend Wisdom into a Pride demon. 

“No, not conjure. I would like to learn from them, as you do. And there is so much more to Spirit magic than conjuring.” She was beginning to feel a bit defensive.

Dorian frowned disapprovingly. “Spirit magic is hardly a beginners course. Have you seen what Spirit magic can do? We’re talking about physical corruption, virulence, corrosion and exploding bodies. Nasty business, don’t you think?” He tugged on her other sleeve as he rolled it up. 

Ma’alin pushed his hand away. “I know that, Dorian. When you agreed to help me you never said I had to pick a ‘pretty’ magic or an easy one.” Dorian’s eyes softened as he looked into hers. 

“Of course. I will help you with anything you ask of me, Inquisitor. As your friend, it is my duty to ensure your safety. If this is what you want, this is what we shall do. But I warn you, practicing Spirit magic on a dummy is very, very different form seeing what it can do to a man” he warned her. 

“Fair enough. I promise not to use it on you. Wouldn’t want to ruin your good looks.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he took his place beside her. 

“As if you could. You can’t ruin natural beauty.” He glanced at her and gave her a wink. Solas rolled his eyes.

“if you two are done, can we begin? The barriers are placed.” Solas set his staff to the side and stood waiting. 

“First things first, the basics.” Dorian was instrumental in instructing her on stance, helping her in locating the well of her personal mana and instructing her how to draw upon it, as well as the basics of simple casting. Solas watched with a careful eye as she directed her first fire ball at the test dummy. The flame balled up around the core of her staff, nearly scorching her sleeve and Dorian’s cloak when she hesitated in her casting. 

“Let it go, Ma’alin!” Dorian grabbed her hand and thrusted her staff forward with force, sending the ball crashing into the dummy, bursting it into flame. She was gasping for breath, still feeling the heat upon her face, euphoric with the realization that she had created that! 

“Did you see that, Solas?” She felt giddy and little drunk with a newly realized power. 

“Yes, I saw you almost set yourself ablaze.” His voice was a bit scolding and that took some of her glee from the moment. 

“And me,” growled Dorian.

“Well, it was only my first try. I will do better next time.” She raised her chin in defiance. She couldn’t help herself. She thought she had done quite well for a first try. 

“Yes, and I may not survive your next time.” He crossed through the practice ring and stood before her. Dorian patted at the smoke coming from his shoulder then ordered one of the soldiers to bring another practice dummy that wasn’t ashes and embers. Ma’alin looked at Solas sullenly, preparing for the forthcoming lecture. 

“Remember your indomitable focus, vhenan. It is one of your greatest strengths. Lose focus and your spells will be of little use to you. Maximize that focus and you will be an indomitable force. Allow me.” 

Solas stood behind her, her back pressed to his chest, his left palm placed on her abdomen just above her navel as Dorian had done. “Your force is here. To best utilize it, to focus it into a formidable well to draw from, draw it up to here.” His hand slid up until the center of his palm rested upon her sternum, resting just below her breasts. She took an unsteady breath. 

“You should feel the warmth of it there. Close your eyes, focus upon drawing it up to meet my hand.” She closed her eyes and focused upon the sensation. “Can you feel the slight tingling warmth there?” Oh, yes she could, in more ways than one. 

“Yes, I can,” she was able to reply. She cleared her throat and tried not to think of the woodsy, smoky, dark vanilla scent enveloping her that was distinctly all Solas. 

“Good. Now, with your right hand you are going to take your staff and hold it just so,” he demonstrated by holding her hand in his and angling it forward towards the fresh target. “You are going to draw the core of the staff towards you, channel your mana in time with the draw, then when you are ready you are going to push the staff away from you and channel the force towards your target.” He guided her hand in demonstration to give her a feel for the motion. 

“When it is ready, you must release it. Hang on to it too long and you will begin to regret your choice to pursue this. Understand?” She turned her head to meet his questioning gaze and smiled. 

“I understand. Let’s try again.” 

Dorian took 3 huge steps backwards until he stood on one of Solas’ protective barriers. “Sorry, I like my hair and I plan to keep it. No offense, Ma’alin.”

Solas shook his head and pressed his left palm firmly against her sternum. “Remember, draw from here. Deep breath. Relax. Now, angle your staff to draw. Good. When you are ready, push.” Ma’alin felt the mana draw into her chest, the flames begin to form about the tip of her staff. She took a deep breath and focused upon the target. The flames were rising higher. 

“Ma’alin…release!” Solas cautioned her. She pushed the staff head forward, flinging the concentrated flames forward in a screeching ball that hit the target and exploded with such force that the test dummy incinerated upon impact leaving only a flaming pole sticking up from the ground. 

Dorian ducked and dodged the flying wood shrapnel, lunging behind Solas for protection.

“Fenhedis…” Ma’alin gasped. She had felt giddy before but now….now she felt truly powerful. She really hadn’t believed she had it in her! 

“What in seven hells was that?” Dorian yelped, patting himself down from head to toe. “Am I in one piece?! Are _you_ in one piece?!” Dorian stepped around Solas and grabbed Ma’alin by the shoulders, inspecting her all over for missing parts. “You appear ok….what the _hell_ was that?” Solas met his wide eyed look of shock with a knowing smirk. 

“That was the hallmark of someone born to wield magic. She has the gift.” Solas looked at her with beaming pride.

Ma’alin’s head was spinning. “Did I do it wrong? Was I not supposed to do that?” 

Dorian ran his fingers through his ruffled hair nervously. “Well, yes, but on a much smaller scale! That’s a very simplistic spell, Ma’alin, one we teach _children_. If that’s what you can do with a fireball, remind me to never to get on your bad side.” Dorian was twitchy. Solas chuckled softly to himself. 

“Shall I try again?” Ma’alin raised her staff and Dorian raised his hands in surrender.

“Not me, I’m afraid. Lesson over. I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I need a drink after that! Solas, you would be wise to make your escape as well before she truly blows something up.” Dorian gave a curt bow and strode off quickly in the direction of the tavern. 

Ma’alin bit her lip to stifle a laugh. “I think I may have scared him. You think he’s upset with me?”

Solas nodded knowingly. “You did more than scare him. You wounded his pride but he is not upset with you. A mage like Dorian practices for years to become great and hone their craft. You, with your natural talent, need only hone your focus and learn the skills and you will be able to surpass the capabilities of any human mage here. Dorian included.”

“Only the human mages?” She eyed her elven apostate lover, the only other non-human mage in Skyhold at the moment, and gave him her best coy smile. 

“Pace yourself, vhenan” he smiled. “I, too, possess a natural affinity for magic and I’ve had far, far more practice than you have.” 

She tapped the end of her staff against the top of her boot. “Are you going to duck out of the rest of my practice as well?” 

“No, you will find I do not shy away from a challenge. Just promise me you’ll keep that staff pointed in the other direction.” He reached out and pressed the tip of her staff in the opposite direction with a smile. 

His hands came to her waist and spun her around, his palm resting under her breast at her sternum once more, and his other hand repositioning her staff at her side. The practice dummy had been replaced. His chest pressed against her shoulders as he held her close. 

“Let’s try something less volatile but equally powerful, yes? A mind blast is one of your best defenses in the heat of battle should you get rushed and I am not there to shield you. Or, should you prefer, for use on a certain Emperor the next time he mentions the words _maîtresse-en-titre_ …”

“Solas…” she placed her hand atop his and squeezed it, pulling herself more tightly against his body. 

“Yes, vhenan?” His leaned down to hear her better, his lips at the base of her ear. 

“Thank you. This is only possible because of you.” It was the truth. Without him she never would have dared to admit she was a mage or even contemplated the idea of embracing it. 

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, then rose and kissed the top of her head. “You are welcome, my love. Now, let us continue. Pretend the dummy is Gaspard…shouldn’t be hard to do.”

They laughed together at his little joke as he held her hand and walked her through the motions, the anchor sparking in response to his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been some amazing fanart made for The Fox and the Wolf by others and shared on my Tumblr. Stop by and say hello!


	22. What Pride had wrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for repose has ended. The Inquisition forces push into the Arbor Wilds to confront the would-be god, Corypheus, at the Temple of Mythal.
> 
> The Dread Wolf’s mask of caution with Ma’alin is slipping and his time is running out to tell her the truth.

 

The time for repose had ended.

For the past year and a half, the Inquisition had been relentlessly pursuing Corypheus, battling the Red Templars, freeing the mages, enlisting the aid of it’s rivals, quelling the discord in Thedas, providing succor to the refugees, and growing in influence and power.

Leliana’s spies, Cullen’s soldiers, and Josephine’s acts of diplomacy had been wielded with finesse by the young Inquisitor to create a formidable force that was now primed and ready to descend on Corypheus as he made his way to the Arbor Wilds. Solas greatly admired the fact that Ma’alin instinctively knew when to listen to counsel and to heed the advice of others yet her decisions were always based upon an inner moral compass that gave him great pride in his association with her.

For the past four months, Solas and Dorian had taken Ma’alin’s magical tutelage as their own personal project, working together to give her a crash course in the more advanced spells. Dorian taught the more intricate spell-casting lessons; Solas taught her control and how to channel her focus. As a result, Ma’alin had developed a style all her own that encompassed Solas’ restraint and conservation of movement contrasted with small flourishes and ornamentations that were the hallmark of Dorian’s flashiness coupled with his finesse. Solas was keenly proud of her accomplishments in such a brief period of time. She had a natural ability but at times she struggled with her grasp of control and exhausted herself too quickly in her efforts. Until she could master that, she would need to rely on her bow as her backup or even her primary weapon.

Solas stood beneath a crumbling arch at the base of the ruined statue of Mythal and surveyed all that surrounded them. Soldiers readied siege equipment. Mages gathered with the surgeons to administer healing to the sick and those wounded during their initial push into the Arbor Wilds. Large crimson tents huddled together beneath the protective canopy of the forest in a makeshift camp that reminded him of the night they fled from Haven, tents encircling the heart of the camp and people collectively holding their breath as they awaited the next move. Ma’alin’s tent set apart from the group and was marked with the symbol of the Inquisitor as well as a permanent set of guards. They had spent last night in each other’s arms in her tent, each finding it difficult to sleep in apprehension of today.

Cullen passed by, his brow furrowed as he worried over the map of the ruins and gave orders to his captain. Leliana and Josephine were discussing ally movements and spy intelligence with Briala. All of Ma’alin’s advisors were present on this journey. They were no longer a band of four, searching for answers. The time for action had come and the Inquisition stood present and ready. He took a deep breath and leaned upon his staff, watching the many men and women in Inquisition uniforms ready themselves for battle. He wanted to remember this moment, to remember the people and their united desire to fight against the darkness for one another. He wanted to remember the woman who had made it all possible, a young woman wiser than her years, and more real than anyone he had ever known.

“Solas?” a small hand at the center of his back and her soft voice at his shoulder pulled him from his contemplation quite happily. He turned to meet her eyes and smiled.

“Vhenan.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead softly, his arm encircling her waist. She leaned into him, eyes closed, resting her cheek against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, the sweet smell of jasmine and white peaches against his lips, and held her beneath the crumbling ruin of the Goddess Mythal. She held him lovingly, a sigh escaping her lips.The tension in her body, the dimness of her mark, and the way she clung to him told him everything he needed to know.

“Ma’alin, are you well?” He stroked her hair as he held her close to him. She nodded her head, gently tugging at his sweater. “I am well. I am ready. This is what we have been preparing for.”

“But…” he could sense her hesitancy. She looked away, scanning the crowds of soldiers in the camp. “These people, Solas…they will not all live to see the end of this day. How can I ever live with that? So much death, so much unnecessary waste…” Solas cupped her face and looked into her eyes which shone wet with concern and worry.

“You are not the cause of this, Ma’alin. As terrible as it, as regrettable is the cost, you must remember that you are not the cause. Corypheus is to blame, not you. You are trying to help. That is the best that you can do. You are our best hope.”

Ma’alin was about to speak but her words were cut short as the Lady Morrigan approached them. “Inquisitor, we are ready.” With a silent nod, she grabbed her bow. The soldiers parted as she passed by, whispering prayers for The Herald, touching her as if she were Andraste reborn. Solas frowned at the title which she had denied time and time again, but Ma’alin did not seem to notice, her mind preoccupied. She never claimed to be the Herald but Solas had to admit that, in this moment, the people needed hope and if it gave them hope to believe she was Andraste’s Chosen then so be it.

Solas made his way at Ma’alin’s side accompanied by Morrigan, Cassandra and Dorian as they carved their way silently through the dense forests. More than once Ma’alin had stopped to wonder at the many Fen’harel statues that populated the Arbor Wilds. Solas stood quietly, his calm countenance concealing the stirred emotions deep within him. Those statues were one more thing to add to his list of things he would need to explain to her.

The trails cut through the forest finally led them to the graceful arches of the Temple of Mythal. The arches were framed by ancient statues of giant howling wolves, sentinels to the temple, as well as more of the dread wolf in repose at the door. Solas noticed that Ma’alin could not help but touch them as she passed by. He passed the last of the wolf statues and crossed the threshold of the archway with a lingering sense of deja vu, the knowledge that he had walked these halls many lifetimes ago made him feel wistful, and memories of what once was bled over to what he saw now…crumbling ruins and faded murals. Solas pushed the memories down and pushed through, putting his focus back on the mission at hand.

The Inquisition made their way deep into the temple to confront Corypheus and his red army of Templars.

 

 

 

  
“Fen’harel?”

Solas lost his breath for a moment, panic creating a ringing in his ears. Ma’alin’s voice called out to him from across the dais.

“Solas, look at this! The Dread Wolf! What is it doing inside Mythal’s temple?” Solas inhaled sharply, the fear that had jumped up into his throat slowly settling into an uneasy feeling of anxiety. He hid it well, blinking hard and regaining his composure as she ran towards him, meeting him halfway, before taking him by the hand and leading him to the weathered statue at the end of the terrace. Solas saw the ancient wolf in repose, illuminated by the rays of the afternoon sun through the open roof, and tried to slow her steps to no avail. Ma’alin tugged at him impatiently as she drew him closer. They stood side by side at the base of the statue, one enthralled and one unable to look at it.

“That’s odd....” Morrigan appeared at their side, studying the wolf with a wary eye. Her sardonic tone said exactly what her thoughts were upon the matter before she spoke. “Setting Fen’harel in Mythal’s greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the chantry. Who would do such a thing?” Solas rolled his eyes, planted the end of his staff into the dirt and leaned upon it with feigned disinterest.

“Dalish tribes set statues of the Dread Wolf outside the camps for protection.” Ma’alin touched the base of the statue, her fingers tracing the fine lines and contours with reverence. Solas stared at the ground, unseeing, feeling as if all eyes were upon him and his secrets laid bare for all to see. It was foolish, for they were not...not yet, at least.

“I believed the elves above silly superstitions.” Morrigan said, with words that sounded like mockery. “In elven tales, he tricks their gods into sealing themselves away in the beyond for all time, you know.” Solas stifled a groan, kicking his foot at the dust.

Ma’alin shot her a hard glance. “I know, Morrigan. I am Dalish, if you have forgotten.”

“Forgive me, Inquisitor, but you can hardly blame me for forgetting. You do not strike me as the typical Dalish elf, especially since it is said that you worship the Dread Wolf. How curious that you would worship a trickster who fooled your people...I wonder if that says more the inner workings of our Inquisitor or more about the declining culture of the elves?”

Solas rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. Ma’alin ignored her comment but he could not bite his tongue any longer. “It is said the Dread Wolf was many different things to different people. For all your ‘knowledge,’ Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history.” He leaned upon his staff as he stared down her withering glare without flinching. “The wise do not mistake one for the other.”

Morrigan bowed up to his challenge. “Pray tell, what does our resident ‘Elven Expert’ make of this statues presence here, hmm? I’m aching with curiosity.” She crossed her arms and faced him in challenge.

“Enough already.” Ma’alin cut their exchange short with a curt reproach. “Go with the others, please. I want a few moments alone here.”

Morrigan shrugged and walked away with one last icy glance in his direction. Solas stayed. Any orders Ma’alin gave to be alone never included him. Over the past month, Ma’alin had raised quite a few eyebrows, starting when she named him her ‘Master of the Arcane’ and proclaimed him an official advisor. Her decision to elevate his status ensured that he was by her side in all matters. He was with her at the War Room meetings, an act deemed ill-advised by Cullen, warily accepted by Leliana, and embraced by Josephine. He stood to the side of her throne, amidst the other advisors as she passed judgments, standing close-by should she desire his advice. There were whispers amongst the Orlesian nobles at court that a wedding was to happen soon, fueling the fires of the gossip that surrounded their life.

Their life....strange, he thought, that at some point their two lives had already merged into one without ceremony, without vows,. The closest they had come to declaration had been when they had promised themselves to one another in the elven ruins after she broke through the last of his hindrances. Her gentleness was forceful and irresistible in such moments. For them it seemed as if their love just was, as if meant to be, as if it always would be. There was no questioning it. She loved him as he loved her, trusted him...and it was time to repay that trust. The time for revealing all secrets was nigh. He burned with hope and yearning for her acceptance and understanding. Yet, standing here with her at the base of an altar to Fen’harel, he was eaten up with doubt. How was he supposed to tell her he was the Dread Wolf? Would it break her faith? Break her trust in him? Or would it bring her closer to him?

He watched her in fascination as she kneeled before the statue, stepping closer to hear her while keeping a respectful distance.

“Andaran atishan, Dread Wolf.” She sat in silent reverence, her gaze never leaving the weathered statue. Solas studied her, so stoic and reserved, the calm in a storm. The world raged around her and yet she stood resolute and determined to be true to herself. He admired that about her. She was so young and yet she already knew herself so well, something he attributed to her upbringing, or lack thereof. She had learned to depend on herself, seek her own judgement and counsel, and he found her instincts to be fair and wiser beyond her years. She interrupted his thoughts with a low, quiet voice.

“Solas, you said he hears me...,” her voice trailed off for a brief moment, drawing him closer to her. “Do you think he knows my desires even when I don’t dare pray for what I want?” Solas shifted his weight on his staff and leaned into it, looking down upon her pale ivory hair that looked milky in the sunlight. “It is possible that he knows the desires of your heart, Ma’alin. Why not say it here, in this temple of your ancestors?”

Ma’alin sighed heavily, her gaze falling to her hands in her lap. For a moment there was something there, a wistfulness that looked like longing and...sadness? When she looked up again, Solas could see that she had reigned in whatever emotion was threatening to overtake her and had steeled herself against it. She looked up at the statue, placing one hand upon the base of the wolf.

“Solas, I want to live.”

Solas inhaled sharply, struck by her words like a punch to his gut.

“I want a life that is my own. I want you by my side, away from all this death and....oh, Dread Wolf, help me, I’m so selfish.” Her voice cracked at the end, betraying her controlled reserve. Solas swallowed hard, tasting salt in the back of his mouth as he swallowed against the burning that stung his eyes. He crouched down on his heels to get closer to her, his hand reaching out and resting upon hers.

“It is not selfish to want a life of your own, Ma’alin. Banish the thought.”

She turned to face him, the light filtering in from the collapsed roof of the temple casting halos and shadows upon the curves of her face. “You do not worship the Gods, do you?” Solas tilted his head, absently rubbing his thumb atop her hand, looking upon her as he considered his next words carefully. Her eyes searched his eagerly seeking answers.

“Ma’alin…what if the Gods were not divine? What if they were simply very powerful men and women, revered and deified?” Her head tilted, mirroring his own, and her eyes narrowed. “Like Andraste, you mean?” Solas nodded. “Yes. Would such revelations find your faith lessened?”

He held out his hand to her as she rose to her feet, turning from the statue and standing before him, her face turned up to meet his. “And who sent Andraste? Who gave Fen’harel his power? Who gave people the ability to create magic from nothing? The Maker? Unknown creators?” She shook her head slowly. “It matters not to me. I believe in something more than this world, something more than myself.” She stepped closer to him, her voice softening. “This I know for sure; only one being was there when I needed him and he came to me, again and again, when I needed someone. Fen’harel heard me, he saved me, and I can say a prayer to give thanks for that.”

Solas could not meet her gaze, staring instead at the worn leather lacing that cinched her sleeve to her leather jerkin. He was lost in thought, reliving memories of a small girl being handed by the dread wolf to a cruel woman who would punish her for merely existing, of the young woman endearing abuses at her hands until she broke free, of the woman who now bore his anchor...thoughts that made his heart ache. Ma’alin caressed his face then began to turn from him. He quickly reached out to hold her wrist and keep her close, his voice betraying his emotions.

“He does not deserve your thanks. He was not there when you truly needed him.” Visions of Ma’alin fighting back against the assaults of Thalenn and Rin, laughing in the face of the Keeper who sought to degrade her, a solitary girl alone in the world without someone to defend her, tore at him. “It was Fen’harel who delivered you to that cursed clan. He may have rescued you from the attacker at the shrine in the woods but he failed you when you needed him most. When the Keeper threatened you...”

She looked at him incredulously, her eyes wide. “He was there when it mattered! Some trials are meant to be faced alone, Solas. They make us stronger, you know this better than anyone. But the Dread Wolf was there when..." she stopped short, her eyes narrowed as she looked into his eyes. Taking a step back, her brows furrowed deeply, “...wait, what did you say?” Her voice started as a whisper and quickly became that of hard determination. “I never told you about the shrine, Solas. How did you...”

Solas opened his mouth to answer but his words failed him. “Ma’alin...” She burned him with her eyes, her expression questioning and doubting. He had made a terrible error and the ever observant Inquisitor was quick on his heels. He grabbed her hand in his and held it tight. She did not try to withdraw it but she did not come closer. “Ma’alin, let me explain...”

“Inquisitor!” A voice rang out on the terrace, interrupting them and preventing her from pushing the question further. Dorian rushed through the archway. “The Sentinels have allowed us entrance to the inner sanctum and we’ve found the Red Templars! Come quickly!” Ma’alin shot Solas a look that said she was not through with him and then they both broke into a run to meet the others in the sanctum. Solas felt illl with unease but an explanation would have to wait.

The Sentinel who called himself Sorrow, Abelas, greeted them civilly if not coldly. He addressed Ma’alin directly. “You have the features of those who call themselves elvhen.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Solas, a slight nod as he acknowledged him, then he turned his attention back to Ma’alin to study her. Was he seeing what Solas had seen...a faint resemblance to Mythal’s descendants? Was it in the sharpness of her eyes? The distinct curve of the cheekbones that was the hallmark of her lineage? Or was it something unmeasurable and unseen, such as the way she carried herself and the unflinching gaze with which she held his stare? Abelas reached out to her, indicating her hand. The mark flared and sparked as if in answer. She held her hand out to him, which he took firmly in his own as he examined the anchor she bore. “You bear the mark of magic which is…familiar. How has this come to pass?”

Solas watched her as she stood before this ancient Sentinel, two of his worlds, his past and his present colliding into one in this moment. “The mage we seek, Corypheus, unlocked the magic from an ancient elven artifact. I tried to stop him and I was only partially successful. The anchor contained within has become part of me.” Abelas weighed her words before nodding, releasing her hand. “I believe you. And I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you want to drink from the Vir’Abelasan.”

Morrigan’s eye went wide. “The ‘place of the way of sorrows’…he speaks of the well!” Ma’alin shook her head. “That is not my purpose in coming here...” Abelas cut her words short. “It is not for you. It is not for any of you.” The Sentinel looked pointedly at Morrigan.

Morrigan again whispered to Ma’alin, “Consider carefully. You must stop Corypheus, but you may also need the well for your own. Do not dismiss it so readily!” Ma’alin did not heed her words. She stepped away from her companions and placed herself squarely in Abelas’ path. He looked down upon her with veiled disapproval.

“You are elvhen? You and your sentinels are ancient elves? From before the fall of Arlathan, are you not? Is this even possible?”

Abelas’ chin raised in pride as he looked past her at the sentinels that stood ready, their bows drawn down upon the Inquisitor, as they awaited the command. “We protect this sacred ground, awakening only to preserve what is left...but each time our numbers dwindle. So much time, a millennia, we have stood guard to protect this temple. It protects us as well.”

Solas’ heart ached at the thought of such loss. The remaining elvhen, locked with a temple for the rest of time...

“That means you were here before the fall of Arlathan, before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan and enslaved our people...” she was quickly connecting the dots and realizing the weight of the Sentinel’s words. Abelas’ look of disapproval faded, replaced by one of sorrow and regret.

“The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan. We elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over. We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless, yet we endure. The Vir’Abelasan must be preserved.”

Ma’alin looked stricken. She held out her hands to him. “The people need you. We need your knowledge of our history. So much has been lost...please, Abelas, come with us. Help us. Our people have been lost for so long, you could...” Again, he cut her off.

“Our people? You proclaim these elves are our people? The ones we see in the forest, shadows wearing vallaslin?” He pointed at her and sneered, his voice hard and commanding. “You are not my people. And you have invaded this temple as readily as any shemlen.”

Solas could see the anger flare in her eyes and he cautiously stepped closer. Solas could feel the energy from the anchor as it sparked angrily at her side. “I have respected this temple! I have completed the rituals. I have cut down the Red Templars who defiled it’s halls. And you call me a shem?” Abelas stood firm as she stepped up to him just as she had to Solas so many times, challenging him and holding her ground. Their eyes were locked in a battle of wills as she unleashed her quiet fury upon him. “You say I am not one of your people but I look at you and I see someone who has turned their back upon his kin and those who would benefit from his knowledge, and who willfully looks down upon me despite the fact that I am just like him.”

An uneasy silence filled the air as the seconds began to stretch on forever. Solas watched, his eyes flicking from the small Inquisitor that stood determined before the tall sentinel and the Sentinel who’s sneer had begun to turn to a thoughtful pondering. Ma’alin turned to Solas. “Say something to him, please. You understand him better than I.” He felt his mouth go dry. “What shall I say? Shall I sway him from a millennia of service by virtue of our shared blood? He clings to all that remains of his world, because he lacks the power to restore it. This temple is all that remains.” The association Ma’alin had drawn between Solas and the Sentinel had gone unnoticed by Cassandra but he found Dorian giving him a questioning look. He ignored it.

Ma’alin turned to Abelas again, her words hard but not unkind. “You and I are of the same people, whether you choose to see that or not. I respectfully ask for your help.” His rigid posture relaxed slightly as he crossed his arms, rubbing his chin in thought as he held Ma’alin’s gaze.

“Perhaps you are not wrong. But this world is not our world.” His voice sounded regretful, wistful, without losing it’s authoritative tone. “Our duty is to preserve this temple. And that is all. I can give you nothing more, however much you may desire it. If you would have your people know their history perhaps you should be the bearer of that knowledge.” Ma’alin’s shoulders sagged in defeat as she turned from him. Abelas moved as if to turn from her but he hesitated. Solas watched him as he seemed to war within himself for a moment. A slight nod of his head as he reached his decision and he turned back to Ma’alin and her companions.

“Trespassers you are, but you have followed the rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart…and never return.” Ma’alin nodded in acceptance and held out her hand to shake it with the sentinel in agreement. “I understand. And I thank you.” She couldn’t see it, but as an observer Solas could see it plainly, the Sentinel who called himself Sorrow looked at her now with guarded respect. His voice was softer when he now spoke to her.

“You will be guided to those you seek. As for the Vir’Abelasan…it shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself. Do you understand?” Ma’alin nodded. “I wish to honor your sacred duty. I seek Corypheus.”

“Til we meet again, Inquisitor.” Abelas turned from them and withdrew into the temple. A lone sentinel beckoned from the east hallway to guide them through the sanctum to the Red Templars that awaited them. It was then they noticed Morrigan had gone when no one was looking, following Abelas to the well. Solas shook his head in frustration. That witch was pressing her luck.

Ma’alin took the lead with Solas at her heels. Dorian and Cassandra followed close behind, stave and sword at the ready. The sounds of fighting, of men screaming, were coming through the walls. The Sentinel guide moved slowly and Ma’alin was becoming impatient. Another scream echoed around them and she’d had enough. She pushed past their guide and rushed to the doors at the end of the last great hall. “The sentinels are dying! We cannot wait!” She pressed her small frame against the door and began to push, gritting her teeth in effort. Solas and Cassandra joined her while Dorian stood ready should they get rushed. The great door groaned against the effort until it at last swung open to a vast courtyard. The sun light breaking through the trees was blinding! They dove to the nearest cover to get their bearings.

The sounds of clashing steel, the whooshing of arrows, and the crackling of flames surrounded them. Screams of battle, the sounds of the dying, and the grunts of monsters as they hefted their red lyrium infused blades high above to bring down the death stroke was deafening. They were too late. They burst into the clearing as the last sentinel fell into a bloody heap at the feet of Samson, the general of Corypheus’s red lyrium army. Ma’alin drew her bow and aimed at his heart, grimacing at the smirk upon Samson’s lips.

“Inquisitor, I presume? Persistent little minx, aren’t you? You’ve followed us all over Thedas, I guess I should not be surprised that you would follow me even here.” Solas growled beneath his breath. He wanted to wipe that petulant smile from his lips, to burn him to the ground before he could say another word to her.

“Samson, I would follow you into the deepest depths of the void if it meant stopping you. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done here.” Ma’alin’s voice was hard, primal, and Solas had never heard it sound so cold.

Samson shook his head, the smile still upon his lips. “They made their choice. But you still have a chance. Corypheus chose me twice. Once as his general and now as his vessel for the Well of Sorrows. Do not stand in my way, Inquisitor, lest you pay the ultimate price.” The other Red Templars shuffled behind their leader, lyrium addled abominations set on destruction.

Ma’alin drew her bow tighter, the string creaking as it pressed hard against her cheek. “Vessel? For what purpose? Why does he desecrate this temple?”

Samson turned from her to face the ancient staircase that ascended a steep slope and led to the well. “I become the vessel, gaining the wisdom and knowledge of the well, and I give it to Corypheus. With that power, he can walk into the fade without the need of your precious mark. Corypheus will be unstoppable and your name will fade into obscurity until you are all but forgotten.”

Ma’alin laughed, a dark and hollow laughter that gave Solas chills, as she relaxed the draw of her bow. “And you think he will let you or your men live once he has that power? You are a fool, Samson.” Cassandra tensed next to him, sharing a look with Solas that said they should be at the ready. Dorian sighed under his breath, “Well, that certainly won’t piss him off...”

Samson spun on them, his eyes flaming from the red lyrium, snarling in anger. “You dare say that to my face? After you butchered my men?” He drew his sword, the anger emanating from him in red waves.

“Careful, Ma’alin....” Solas whispered to her. Ma’alin laughed again. “As you said, Samson...they made their choice. You twisted these men, perverted their purpose, and they followed you willingly into this corruption. I’m doing them a favor. Now step aside and relinquish your weapons or else you leave me no choice.”

Solas shielded his eyes as Samson held out his arms and drew upon the power of his red lyrium imbued armor, red waves emanating from him. The red lyrium infused him and lit him from within. Solas could not have imagined just how powerful the templar had become and to see it now, he feared for Ma’alin. Samson’s voice called out to them over the roar that was beginning to grow from the humming of the lyrium. “THIS is the power that the Chantry tried to bind! But it’s a new world now, and with a new God!”

“Now!” Ma’alin whispered to Dorian. The mage quickly pulled out the rune Dagna had forged from the red lyrium found in the templar camps and propelled it’s magic at the general. Like a shot to the gut, he doubled over in agony, the red waves of blinding power dissipating instantly. The rune had rendered the lyrium in his armor useless, just as they had hoped. Now his cries of agony echoed off the walls.

“No! Nooooo! What have you done? What have you done!” The other red templars, twisted and deformed from the lyrium, looked at him anxiously. “Don’t just stand there! Kill them! Kill theeeeeem!” Samson’s cries spurred them like wildfire and now they faced some of the largest, deadliest red templars they had yet encountered.

“Fen’harel save us.” Ma’alin muttered as she drew her bow and let the first arrow fly, striking a red templar in the eye. Solas stood at her side, casting barriers at their feet to protect them from the disabling effects of the lyrium. Cassandra raised her shield and met the first charging templar in a great crash of metal, reaching from beneath her shield and stabbing upwards into the joints between his armor. His screams were agony as he fell to the ground. She withdrew her bloodied sword and readied herself for another attack. Dorian quickly raised the templar’s body from death and promptly sent it careening back at the templars as a walking bomb of disease and corruption. The templars spread out to avoid the diseased corpse as it exploded gore and disease upon them. Solas snarled when he saw more templars step out of the ruins as he realized they were now surrounded.

Solas reached out to Ma’alin, his left arm pulling her around him until she stood behind him. “Stay back, I will protect you!” A shriek rang out behind him as a templar charged at Ma’alin. She spun, her back pressed against his as she loosed an arrow and brought the templar down at their feet. “Stay back and I’ll protect you,” he heard her shout. He looked over his shoulder and his eyes met hers as she smiled before firing another arrow at a templar rushing them. The shot hit him between the eyes and he fell to a skidding halt before them. “Works for me!” Solas kept his left arm behind him, the flat of his palm against her stomach and holding her to his back, while he spun his staff and unleashed a wall of ice upon the line of templars rushing Cassandra.

“Solas, your left!” Ma’alin pushed her shoulder against him to add to his momentum as he spun. He groaned with effort as he pulled at the fade and opened a crackling rift beneath three huge templars rushing them with swords drawn. They crashed to the ground in screaming wails. Dorian drowned them in a firestorm that charred their flesh, silencing their wails and leaving only smoke and charred remains in it’s wake. Cassandra was fighting her way through the center of them and clearing a path to Samson. Dorian was quickly on her heels and blasting the few remaining templars that still struggled for life. Ma’alin helped Solas finish off the stragglers then grabbed his hand as they rushed to join them.

Samson saw his men falling and turned to run. An arrow whooshed past Solas’ ear, hitting Samson in the shoulder. Solas ducked and looked over his shoulder to see Ma’alin drawing another arrow. Cassandra cut down the last two remaining templars that blocked their path to their general. Samson spun to face the Inquisitor, rage and fury etched across his features.

“Your men are dead, Samson! Stop this now!” The voice of the Inquisitor rang out over the destruction and carnage that surrounded them in this holy place. Samson roared, a hollow emptiness that was palpable.

“Fuck you, Inquisitor! Look what you have done! My men…You die!” Samson rushed them, catching Cassandra by surprise. He pushed past her, sending her falling hard upon broken stones. Dorian’s spell was rebuffed and the searing flames he had propelled at Samson came barreling back at him. He dove for cover, just barely missing the explosion that hit the ground where he had stood. Solas watched in horror as Samson’s body contorted, channeling a vicious smite that could burn them to ashes. Ma’alin was directly in his line of fire.

“NO!” Solas could see the dark red energy crackling as it flew from Samson’s eyes and began to arc out to it’s closest target, Ma’alin. Solas lunged, catching her around the waist, and brought her down with a sickening thump against the stone. Something had broken but he could not tell if it was him or her. The cone of red lyrium was screaming at them. Instinctively, he drew her in tightly to him and curled around her, his body protecting hers, as the searing waves washed over them. A scream filled his ears and only seconds later did he realize the scream had been his own. His back took the brunt of the searing heat and he hissed at the blinding pain.

“No, no, no...Solas? Solas!” Ma’alin pushed at him to free herself from his grasp, her eyes wide in fear and concern as he was now dead weight upon her. “Solas, look at me!” He met her eyes but everything felt hazy and distant. His back was burning and his nerves felt as if they were on fire. She was pulling on him, groaning with effort as she locked her arms under his and began to drag him. “Cass! Dorian! Someone help me!” Cassandra came running from the smoke, her words jumbled in his ears. She grabbed his arm and hefted him up. He winced at the pain that raced down his body when she touched him. Faintly he could hear Dorian yelling at the templar as he cast negations and barriers at Samson to buy them time.

“Cassandra, stay with him!” Ma’alin reached for her bow and found it broken. Samson was bearing down on Dorian and had him on his knees. “Ma’alin! Hurry, I can’t hold him!” Solas felt as if he were sobering from a drunken stupor when it quickly dawned on him that Ma’alin was rushing at the templar unarmed. “No!” He lunged forward only to find he was being held by Cassandra. “Seeker, please! Let me go, I have to save...” Solas saw Dorian fall, brushed aside by the red templar’s power as if he were nothing. His eyes searched for Ma’alin in the smoke.

The smoke drifted and he could see her. His heart skipped, his breath hitched, and he pulled against Cassandra’s vice like grip on his arm. Ma’alin stood alone before the templar, Samson grinning at her in assured victory. “Just you and me now, and you are unarmed. Say your prayers to your gods, Inquisitor, you’re about to meet them.”

Ma’alin smiled, catching him off guard. “You first, General. Give them my regards!” She raised her hands high into the air and beams of bright green energy ignited from the anchor, sparking wildly from her left hand and arcing into the sky. Her scream rang out in the hall as she pulled at her mana, struggling to control it, and channeling it into dark, vaporous spirit energy that began swirling from her right hand in violent sparks and smoke. The air became electric and Solas could smell the ozone in the air. Samson rushed Ma’alin with a howling growl. Solas yelled out to her. If she was going to do something she needed to do it now before she lost control over whatever she was trying to conjure. It was then that he saw Dorian as he crawled from behind the rubble and grabbed her ankle, pushing all his remaining mana into her. With a scream, she unleashed a cacophonous explosion upon the raging templar that stopped his advance and enveloped him in veridian and violet tendrils of magic so powerful that it rendered him mute. Samson tried to struggle, held in stasis within the dueling magics, then his eyes widened in terrible realization as the tendrils began to tear at him. The more he struggled, the more her spell ripped into him, causing him to tear himself apart. Cassandra looked away, ill from the spectacle unfolding before them. The magic still poured forth form Ma’alin, drowning her target in a power he could not overcome. He clawed at the the air around him, falling to his knees as he tried to reach her. Solas could sense the spell becoming unsteady, ripping at the veil around them.

“Ma’alin, let it go! Release it! Quickly, before you tear us all apart!” He didn’t know if she had heard him but suddenly she twisted her body to break the connection, falling to her knees beside Dorian. The flowing stream of dual magic was broken, and the remainder of the tendrils coiled in upon the General, flowing into his eyes, ears, and silently screaming mouth before suddenly igniting into a blinding ball of light that sent them all diving for cover.

Solas found himself lying on his back and wincing in pain. Ma’alin hovered over him, looking exhausted. “Are you alright? Solas? Speak to me, please!” He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it gently before resting their clasped hands upon his chest. “I will survive. What about Samson?” She sighed a deep breath of relief and kissed his forehead.

“Samson is dead. And we’re all still alive. But you need healing.” Solas struggled to sit up and she pulled his hand to give him leverage. “I will be fine. Healing can come later. We need to get to the well before...”

Cassandra kneeled at his side with a handful of healing potions, blood trickling from a wound on her head. “Drink this, Solas.” She held the flask as he downed the first bottle. He felt very little effect. She assisted him with a second and a third bottle before he felt restored enough that he could attempt to stand on his own. Dorian limped to them, a little singed and battle worn, but not injured. “The Inquisition owes me new robes. And Maker knows this…whatever this is,” Dorian flicked away something red and fleshy, “…will not wash off. I’ll be billing that to you, Inquisitor.” He smiled tiredly as he placed his hand on Ma’alin’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you did back there but you definitely put on a light show. I suppose I should thank you but I wouldn’t it want it to go to your head.” Solas observed the tender took Ma’alin and Dorian exchanged, a look that spoke volumes of their friendship. “Don’t thank me yet, we still have Corypheus to deal with.” Dorian rolled his eyes, “Andraste help us, why did I ever volunteer for this job.” Ma’alin kissed him lightly on his cheek. “Because you love me, that’s why.” Dorian’s small smile and slight flush were his only answer.

Ma’alin again knelt at his side and draped his arm over her shoulder. With effort, and Cassandra’s assistance, he was back on his feet. Ma’alin wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him and helped him walk. They climbed the steep stairwell that led to the Well of Sorrows, all a little worse for wear, but determined to see this through together. At the top of the stairs they finally saw the prize that Corypheus was seeking.

The well was vast, and more like a pool. The water was crystal clear, reflecting like glass as it shimmered in the rays of light coming through the broken ceiling. Golden tiles covered the floor and lined the pool, glinting in the golden sun. Beyond, a massive Eluvian loomed over the well, it’s glass dark and sleeping.

He did not have time to appreciate it, this lost wonder of Mythal, as he and the others were met by Abelas and Morrigan in a heated argument. Ma’alin stood him next to a crumbling pillar and immediately diverted her attention to the escalating confrontation. Solas watched as Morrigan spun on her in a fury, pointing at the Sentinel. “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows! We must take it for ourselves!”

Abelas turned to Ma’alin, his gaze cold and accusing. “So the sanctum is to despoiled at last…I granted you entry. I see I was mistaken.”

Morrigan fumed, her cheeks flushed as she became more animated. “You would have destroyed the well yourself, if given the chance!” Abelas’ control was being tested and he stepped closer to Morrigan, his eyes burning through her. “To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than it be bestowed upon the undeserving.” His insults fell on deaf ears. “Fool! You’d let your people’s legacy rot in the shadows of this ruin?” Morrigan accused. Ma’alin quickly inserted herself between the two to cease the conflict. Her voice cut through the arguing, clear and sharp.

“Morrigan, enough!” Morrigan’s eyes went wide as she turned her fury on Ma’alin. “You cannot honestly….”

“I said enough!” In the silence that followed, Abelas watched her curiously, and Solas could see that he was weighing her influence over Morrigan who had been thoroughly silenced. Morrigan and Abelas exchanged distrustful glances but neither pursued their argument in the midst of the Inquisitor. Morrigan tried another tactic, pleading to Ma’alin and playing upon the needs of the many versus the cost.

“The well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be used against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it? Can you chance leaving it for him to find?”

Abelas shook his head angrily. “Do you even know what you ask? Each servant of Mythal has passed their knowledge on through this.” He gestured to the well, his gaze meeting Ma’alin’s, suddenly appearing deflated. “Inquisitor...all that we were, all that we knew…it would be lost forever.”

Ma’alin nodded slowly. “This cannot be easy for you, Abelas, holding on to all that’s left...” Abelas looked tired and more than a little bit defeated. “You can not begin to imagine, Inquisitor.”

The Sentinel’s despair struck a chord in Solas. He knew his struggle, the effort and discipline that were needed to preserve what remained of their people. Pushing himself away from the wall, he spoke quickly before thinking. “There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger.”

Abelas’ gaze was turned to him for the first time, as was Ma’alin’s. Abelas recognized him at once, a man of similar duty and heritage. “Elvhen such as you?” the Sentinel asked warily. Solas nodded. This man deserved the truth for his obedience to Mythal.

“Yes, elvhen such as I.” Ma’alin’s head jerked in his direction and he could feel her questioning gaze upon him. She knew the distinction of the elvhen and what that would mean to him from their previous conversations. He was steadily digging his hole deeper with her and she would be owed many explanations. Abelas considered his words before finally turning his attention back to Ma’alin. He glanced once more to Solas and back to her, making the connection quickly that she was his and he was hers. He nodded his head. His decision made, he turned his attentions fully to her.

“Unlike the others, you have shown respect to Mythal…and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. The company you keep speaks of your worthiness, excepting one.” He shot a disapproving look over her shoulder to Morrigan before focusing upon Ma’alin once more. “Is that your desire...to partake of the Vir’abelasan, as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

Solas watched with bated breath, awaiting her reaction. Ma’alin stood before the tall Sentinel and held out her hands in supplication and respect. “Not without your permission.” Solas’ heart swelled in pride for his love and the respect she showed this guardian of the sacred. Her intention was not lost upon Abelas, his posture relaxing and his voice softening.

“One does not obtain permission, Inquisitor. One obtains the right. I believe you are worthy if this is what you truly seek. However, the Vir’abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend.” His voice became more concerned as he began to caution her. “Brave it if you must, but know you this: You shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.” Solas’ breath hitched, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?” Morrigan dismissed his warning abrasively. Abelas chose to ignore her tone. “Bound, as we are bound. The choice is yours.” Of course. Solas should have known better, it had been so long and he had been so focused upon Ma’alin that he had not considered it, had failed to consider the cost if Ma’alin chose to drink from the well. Ma’alin eyed the Sentinel questioningly. “Is it possible Mythal might still exist?”

  
“Anything is possible,” Abelas answered cryptically. Solas shook his head. Was it possible that even Mythal’s guardians no longer knew she yet survived. What would that would mean for Ma’alin? Morrigan interrupted his thoughts. “Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen’harel and banished to the beyond.”

Abelas’ voice but through the air with evident disdain. “‘Elven’ legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder.” Solas felt his heart skip a beat. So long, it had been so long, and yet that memory never failed to cut him to the quick.

“Murder? I said nothing of…” Morrigan stammered.

Abelas straightened his shoulders, raised his chin in pride, and addressed Ma’alin. “She was slain, if a god truly can be…betrayed by those who desecrated this temple. Yet the Vir’abelasan remains. As do we. That is something.” Ma’alin rubbed her temples, processing all that was transpiring, and she was beginning to look tired.

“Abelas, will you leave the temple when...,” Solas started, realizing that she was implying that she was considering drinking from the well.

Abelas frowned, more sad than disappointed. “Our duty ends. Why linger?” Abelas turned from her to leave them to their decision. Solas called out to him. “There is a place for you, lethallin…if you seek it.” Abelas turned and met his gaze, his face thoughtful. “Perhaps there are places the shemlen have not touched. Then again, perhaps all that awaits us is uthenera, if fate is kind.” The sadness in his voice was tangible. Ma’alin stepped towards him, closing the space between them as she often did when she wanted someone’s confidence.

“Don’t go. You could come with us, Abelas. The knowledge you have, the history you know...I would use this to free our people. If you seek a greater cause to serve, join us.”

“We are but shells of who we once were, remnants of a time long gone. There is nothing left here for us to serve.” Ma’alin’s disappointment was written upon her face but she did not press the issue further. The Sentinel looked to Solas once more, his knowing gaze not going unnoticed by Ma’alin.  
  
Solas could not let him leave like that. His eyes met Abelas’ as he passed him by. “Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas.” The Sentinel acknowledged his words with a nod before turning to leave. Solas turned back to face Ma’alin’s questioning look. “His name, Abelas, means sorrow. I said… “ Solas hesitated, biting back the truth. “I hoped he finds a new name.” Ma’alin’s attention, and her penetrating stare. were drawn away quickly by Morrigan.

“Note the intact Eluvian, Inquisitor. And the well is it’s key. We must act quickly.” Ma’alin stood at the lip of the well, hesitant. Solas watched as the witch leapt at the chance to take the advantage. “I am more then willing to pay the price the well demands. I am also the best suited to use it’s knowledge in your service.” Solas grimaced, clutching his side as he stepped away from the wall to confront her directly. “Or more likely to your own ends!” Morrigan raged against his objections, “What do you know of my ends, elf?” The word ‘elf’ dripped with acid on her tongue. It stoked his anger further. “You are a glutton, drooling at the sight of a feast. You can not be trusted!” Ma’alin held up her hand to him as a caution...she meant to listen to Morrigan? He could not imagine why she was allowing this woman to continue.

“Inquisitor, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me be the one who drinks!” Solas observed Ma’alin’s normally calm countenance turn dark. “You alone? In case you have forgotten, again, this is my heritage!” The Inquisitor squared off against Morrigan in opposition. For a brief moment, Solas could not help but consider the strangeness of a daughter of Flemeth standing in opposition to a daughter of Mythal...

“Be reasonable, Inquisitor. I have studied the oldest lore. I have delved into mysteries of which you could only dream. Can you honestly tell me there is anyone better suited?” Morrigan was inching her way closer to the well even as she pleaded her case. Ma’alin looked over her shoulder to Solas, a small hint of doubt in her eyes. “Solas...?”

Solas felt the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and shook his head vehemently. “No. Do not ask me again.” Being bound to Mythal, his beloved Mythal, he could not do. Not now, not ever again.

Ma’alin turned from him. She looked long at the well before turning back to Morrigan. “I would be.”

“What? You lead the Inquisition, this is not a risk you can take! Let me drink!” The Inquisitor walked away from the witch, pondering. She walked the edge of the well. Solas pressed his palm against the crumbling wall to steady himself, meeting Dorian’s worried gaze and nodding, their mutual concern shared at what was about to transpire. Ma’alin absently rubbed at the anchor on her left hand, an anxious trait that only manifested when she was worrying over a decision.

“Perhaps it would have been best to let Abelas destroy the well. But looking at it, listening to it...that’s not just knowledge from ancient elven priests...it’s their will. It is the knowledge and will of Mythal. To drink from this is place yourself under the will of Mythal. Can you not feel that, Morrigan?”

“Inquisitor, we do not even know what that means, if anything! To be in service to a long dead god?” Morrigan waved her arms about to indicate the crumbling and neglected temple that surrounded them. Solas could not help but mumble under his breath, “Mythal endures.” Ma’alin turned to her companions. “Thoughts?”

Cassandra pushed past Solas. She had been a silent observer until now, concern clearly etched upon her face. “Inquisitor, if it is truly between you and her, then let her take the risk. Maker, help us all.” Dorian sighed heavily. “I do not want to risk losing you to a well.” All eyes fell on Solas in expectation.

Should he encourage her? Discourage her? Did she even know what she asked? And yet, who better to reap the benefits, and the potential cost, of the well than a descendant of Mythal? However, the idea that she should be bound to someone, anyone, and risk losing part of herself made him feel ill. The mere possibility that it could alter her, making her like these ancient and sorrowful Sentinels....he could not fathom the effect it may have upon her. “She is right about only one thing. We should take the power that lies in that well. But Ma’alin...I beg of you, do not let it be you, vhenan.”

“Enough deliberation. Make your decision” Morrigan crossed her arms and awaited the verdict, victory all but assured.

Ma’alin hesitated, worrying at the mark upon her hand. She crossed the broken tiles to stand before him, taking his hand. He reached out to caress her cheek, his fingers trailing down her jaw until he cupped her chin in his hand, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. She did not need his counsel in this moment, only the assurance that he stood with her. With a sigh and a slight nod, the decision appeared to have been made. She met Solas’ eyes and his heart sunk.

“If anyone is to use the well, to pay the price, it will be me. I will not ask others to pay a price I am not prepared to pay myself.” Cassandra’s audible gasp and Dorian’s groan echoed his own dismay. Damn her duty and self-sacrifice! Solas wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to make her see, and yet he knew it would make no difference. To her the cost was a personal one or else it would be one she subjected upon others, which she would not do unwillingly. Morrigan’s insistence to drink from the well had made her question her motives and thus had ruled her out as a contender. Solas wanted to object but what could he say?

Morrigan cried out in objection. “So you will take what little knowledge you can understand and let the rest go to waste? So careless!” Ma’alin kissed the palm of his hand, giving it a squeeze, then turned her attention back to Morrigan.

“Who’s to say it will go to waste? You keep forgetting, Morrigan, I am an elf!”

“I do!” the witch seethed. “An elf you may be but you are so distant from your heritage that the only thing that marks you as one is your ears!” Solas pushed himself away from the wall to intercede, to put Morrigan in her place, but Ma’alin needed no help from him.

“You forget yourself, Morrigan. This is my history, this is my heritage, and however distant I may be from it...I’m a hell of a lot closer to it than you will ever be. You could cut my ears off and call me a shem, just as history has done to Shartan, but I’m still an elf. Nothing you can say or do to me will ever change that.” Solas stood within arms reach of the Inquisitor, this normally stoic creature who could unleash a gale in an instant when confronted, and he could feel her vibrations deep beneath his skin. But her face was calm, steadfast in the face of the seething Morrigan. He awaited her concession and prepared in the event Morrigan continued to press her case. Prudence won out as Morrigan deflated beneath Ma’alin’s gaze, the fight leaving her as she turned and gazed at the well in longing.

“Perhaps this is better. Do as you will, Inquisitor. But be careful.” Morrigan’s voice was tired and defeated. She stepped away from the well, concern written upon her face. Despite the anger that she had railed against Ma’alin, Solas was surprised to see her concern as well. Ma’alin stepped towards the well. Solas pushed forward, grabbing her hand. She turned to him and allowed him to pull her to him. His hands cupped her face as he placed a kiss upon her lips. He did not care who saw.

“Solas?” her voice was soft and questioning.

“Vhenan...do not do this. It does not have to be you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before resting his forehead against hers, memorizing her in this moment. Her hands covered his, clasping his fingers tight. “It has to be me. Forgive me.” She pressed her lips to his once more, the kiss lingering in their reluctance to pull away. When she finally did, it was abruptly and she quickly turned to face the well before anyone could change her mind. Solas watched helplessly as she took her first steps into the crystal clear water.

Solas stood on the edge, holding his breath, as she stepped into the center of the pool. Suddenly, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, Dorian now by his side. “Maker guide her” he whispered under his breath. Ma’alin paused at the center of the pool and she looked up, her eyes meeting his. He wanted to cry out, to pull her from the well. His words died in his throat as she scooped the waters in the palms of her hands and drank.

A deafening whoosh exploded all around them, knocking Solas off his feet. He landed hard on his side and the rushing water pressed him against Cassandra as she struggled to get to her knees, knocking her back to the floor. Dorian lay sprawled on his back coughing up water. Morrigan was the first back on her feet, scrambling to the well. Solas winced as he struggled to stand.

“Inquisitor? Inquisitor!” his voice rang out, echoing off the walls as he rushed to the now empty pool. Ma’alin lay flat on her back, eyes closed, and drenched from the waters of the pool. He slipped on the steps, barely regaining his footing as he ran across the slick bottom of the pool. He slid to a stop, landing hard on his knees next to her. “Ma’alin!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, her eyes opening wide in shock. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, Ma’alin....how...how do you feel?” She groaned as he helped her stand, unsteady on her feet but unharmed.

Suddenly she gripped his hand hard and looked past him. Cassandra spun to follow her gaze. “Corypheus!” she cried. The blighted Magister came screeching down from the tower, a mass of dark smoke and lyrium infused flames. Morrigan ran past them. “Quick! To the Eluvian!” Solas had not noticed, all his attention had been on Ma’alin, but the Eluvian was activated and bathing all that surrounded it in a luminescent glow. Morrigan was the first through the mirror, followed quickly by Dorian. Solas grabbed Ma’alin by the waist and they ran together, the Magister quickly closing in on them. Ma’alin ushered Cassandra through and Solas was about to step through when Ma’alin stopped in here tracks, frozen.

The well rose up once more, the luminescent figure of a women silhouetted in the spiraling cyclone of water that created a barrier between those fleeing and Corypheus. “Mythal?” she whispered. Solas shook his head. Not here, not now! Solas put his head down, grabbed Ma’alin about the waist, and pulled her backwards with so much force that they crashed through the Eluvian just as another deafening whoosh filled the chamber, muffling Corypheus’ frustrated cries. Solas cried out as landed upon his back, the searing pain nearly causing him to pass out. He released Ma’alin, who landed next to him with a gasp as the breath was knocked out of her upon impact. Solas could hear the voices around him but they sounded a thousand miles away. He could faintly hear Cassandra’s voice, “The Eluvian is closed! We got away! But, how? Was that a woman?”

Solas rolled to his side, his hands reaching out blindly for Ma’alin. Her hands grasped his tightly and he was flooded in relief. “I am here, Solas.” A choked moan escaped his lips as he held her hands to his chest. “Stay still, love, you’re hurt. Dorian! Come! Cassandra, fetch the surgeon!” Solas closed his eyes and tried to will away the pain that was searing down his back. A cool hand caressed his face and he could feel the featherlight brush of lips against his forehead.

“Ma’alin?” he wanted to know how she was, if she was changed. “Ssh, Solas. I’m fine. A bit shaken, but fine.” He sighed in relief. “I was afraid I was going to lose you.”

Ma’alin smiled and shook her head. “You can’t lose me that easily, vhenan. Especially not when you owe me some answers. If you finally trust me enough to share them, that is.” Solas chuckled despite the pain when he laughed. “Yes, I suppose you are past due for an explanation.” She kissed his forehead again. “That can wait. I’m afraid you may have broken your shoulder, Solas. It’s my turn to repay the favor and take care of you.”

Solas closed his eyes and breathed deeply, kissing the back of her hand. “My love.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are different interpretations what Solas says to Abelas. Benefaris on tumblr offers the translation as "Your story does not end here, it’s within you, Abelas" which I think is the closest approximation that can be guessed at. 
> 
> There has been some fabulous fanart posted to my Tumblr. 
> 
> The latest can be seen here - http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/140884559289/dragonageinquisitionart-created-an-amazing
> 
> You can find my Dread Wolf playlist here - http://8tracks.com/cyran9/solas-may-the-dread-wolf-take-you


	23. Bloodstream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another rollercoaster Solas POV chapter dealing with the repercussions of the Well of Sorrows, a bit of smut, and a visit from an unwelcome guest. 
> 
> Warning: there is a graphic scene here, nothing explicit or overly detailed, but I wanted you to be prepared. If you were ok with chapter 17, you will make it through this.

Solas lie awake in the dark, unable to sleep. He hadn’t slept much the past two nights. The burns across his shoulders and back had been healed by diligent care by Ma’alin and the surgeon, but they still felt sensitive even to the slightest touch. He laid upon his stomach, the sheets pooled at his hips to allow the cool breeze from the open window to ease the burning heat that still lingered in his skin, and he looked longingly at the pale sleeping woman next to him. He reached out and took her hand in his own, her soft pliant fingers entwined in his. Her soft, slow breaths assured him she was deep in peaceful sleep.

He pushed back a lock of hair that fell across her cheek and watched her dream. She would never admit it but the events at the Temple of Mythal, drinking from the well, had taken a toll upon her just as he had feared. She was restless, distracted, and more than once he had found her rubbing her temples to soothe a headache when she thought he was sleeping.

He had been in her room since their return to Skyhold. The first night had been the worst. He had hissed through his teeth as Dorian helped him up the long flight of stairs to the Inquisitor’s room, half carrying him. He had asked to be left on his couch in the rotunda but she would not hear it. She and the surgeon had attended him, cleaning the wounds and applying a poultice to ease the burn and prevent infection. His shoulder was not broken as he had feared but it had been badly sprained in the fall. At night, she dismissed the surgeon, locked the doors and crawled into bed with him. Solas laid face-down upon her bed, his forehead resting upon his arms, as she gently straddled his hips and tried not to rock the bed. She began to hum softly as she held her hands above his shoulders. He could feel the warmth emanating from her palms from the closeness of her fingers that hovered above his seared flesh.

“Be still, Solas.” Slowly, he began to feel coolness upon his skin, a delicate whisper of frost that melted into a cool healing balm upon his skin the instant it touched the heated burns. He winced at first at the shock of the icy cold against his sensitive skin but it was gone in an instant, followed by a sigh of relief at the lessening of the pain. Her hands wove a spell of frost mixed with a healing spring upon his shoulders and back while her voice hummed songs the reminded him of simpler times, and a home he had almost forgotten.

Home, he thought. How long had it been since he had a home? As a boy, as Fen’harel, as Solas....as Pride....when had he last been home? He thought long and hard, willing some kind of memory, some warm recollection to come to mind but it did not. All he could see was her.

He could see her, envision her away from the Inquisition and living the life she dared not hope to wish for. He could see her in a country home, fruit trees blooming in the spring, with her long tresses tied messily in a bun as she read by the fireplace. He could see her caring for those in need, quietly leaving extra bags of grain and medicinal herbs on the doorways of those who needed it most. He could see her walking in the rain and smiling, for she dearly loved the rain. He could see her holding a small bundle in her arms and rocking it slowly, a small smile upon her lips and a loving gaze in her eyes. And he could see her, forever ageless in his eyes, with grey green eyes that were always so alert and observant.

In each vision, Solas could see himself with her. Her head resting upon his knee as she read to him. Him carrying the bags of grain as she left supplies for her neighbors. Her holding his hand as they walked together, laughing in the rain. The look the two of them would share as they lay together in bed with a small, pale blonde child lying between them in peaceful sleep. It all felt so real that he could almost touch it just as he was touching her now. He reached out and pulled her closer to him, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling into one.

He did not have to try to remember what home felt like any longer. She was his home. In that moment, Solas finally allowed himself to submit completely.

“Juleanathan i myathan na ove min'sal'shiral, i su uth'then'era, vhenan” he whispered into the darkness.

He smiled, content, as her eyelashes slightly fluttered while dreaming. Perhaps, somewhere in her dream, she had heard him. He gently stretched out onto his side, noticing the pain was almost gone. Another day and it would be just a memory. He closed his eyes, holding her hand in his as he finally drifted off to sleep.

Solas awoke at dawn to an empty bed. He started, reaching out to her spot, and quickly turned his head to see Ma’alin leaning against the open balcony windows, her willowy frame silhouetted by the last rays of the moon in her thin cotton shift. She often slept in the nude but the simple cotton shift was his favorite. There was nothing special about it, not really. It was something Josephine had picked up for her in Val Royeaux. It had a deep V neck, simple ribbon ties that gathered under the bust, and it hung loosely down to her knees. It was airy and thin, whisper soft, and had small details of snow white embroidery on the loose sleeves. It was meant to be cool and light to sleep in, an undershirt for the dressing gowns of the upper classes, and it was two times too big for her. But when she wore it, oh…but when she wore it, like now with her back to him as the light flowed through her gown and illuminated the curvy shape of her hips, her hair falling loosely down her back and glimmering in the pale light...

Solas rose from the bed and crossed the cool stone floor until he stood so close behind her he could smell the faint wafts of earthy jasmine and vibrant white peach upon her hair. She said nothing but she melted into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around her, one around her small waist and the other around her shoulders to keep her close as he drew her back against his chest, pressing his nose to the curve of her neck to breathe her in. The feel of the soft cotton against his skin as he held her was comforting and yet his hands clenched like vices in the delicate fabric that covered her. He could dig his nails into that gown, this delicate shift that was so thin that it was nothing more than air between them, and he could clench his hands in the delicate threads until his knuckles turned white with the desire to never let he go. He kissed the nape of her neck and heard her soft moan. Such beautiful flesh as hers should never know pain but this gown had endured the clenching grasps of a man desperately trying to hold on to the one person that kept his heart beating.

“Why are you awake this early, love?” he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her body.

“I couldn’t sleep. Again. The voices...it’s like they’re in the room with me and yet so far away.” Solas grimaced unnoticed as she looked out above the courtyard of Skyhold, held in his embrace. “Sometimes, I can just barely make out what they say. Their words are ancient and they sound so familiar but they’re not the same as the Dalish tongue. I catch bits and pieces but it’s not enough.”

Solas held her tighter. “Perhaps it is better that way, Ma’alin.”

“No. It’s not. Maybe Morrigan was right. Maybe I should have let her drink from the well. But Solas,” she turned to face him, her expression apprehensive,”last night I heard the voices say my name. A woman’s voice called out to Ivoriel. What if...what if it was my mother?”

Solas shook his head slowly. “No, vhenan, and wishing will not make it so.” He let her go and stepped away from her, pacing between her desk and the fireplace as the frustration he had been trying to deny in the past few days bubbled up to the surface. He had asked her not to do it, he had warned her that the price was too high and yet here they were, facing the consequences of her actions. Ma’alin stood silent, awaiting the storm she could sense brewing. She knew him too well. He couldn’t change what had been done, but she needed to understand that the legends of Mythal were not mere myths. Solas paced, measuring his words before he spoke.

“The Temple of Mythal was extraordinary. In all my journeys, I never dreamed of finding anything there, let alone the well. And yet...”

“Say what is on your mind, Solas. You haven’t mentioned it, but I know you’ve been thinking it. Say it, I can take it.”

Solas stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples in frustration. He was irritated with her for doing this to herself, he was afraid for her safety, and he was afraid she would find out who he was before he could have a chance to explain. His fear was masked in anger as his hands clenched at his sides when he spun and faced Ma’alin. “I begged you not to drink from the well! And now, I watch and I see you unable to sleep, the headaches you try to hide, and the toll that it is taking upon you...why could you not have listened?”

“Solas...” she stepped towards him, her hands out in supplication in an attempt to calm him. He would not be calmed, he needed to get this off his chest.

“You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!” He hadn’t realized he was yelling until he heard his own voice ring off the stone walls in her silence. She was unfazed in his fury, no fear in her eyes. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice but his words were still sharp. “You are Mythal’s creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her. And the worst part of it is that you have given up a part of yourself.” He took her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes, willing her to see past his anger and to hear him. “You’ve given up something precious, can’t you see that?”

She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at him, her words curt. “You don’t even believe in the ancient elven gods, Solas.”

Solas growled under his breath in frustration as he released her and stepped away. “I don’t believe they were gods, no, but I believe that they existed! Something existed to start the legends!” He shook his head and placed his hands upon the mantle of the fireplace, gripping hard before he pushed away to face her again. “If not gods, then mages, or spirits, or....something we’ve never seen before. And you are bound to one of them now!” His voice rang in her deafening silence. He had stung her, he could feel it. He sighed heavily. He was not angry at her, he was afraid for her, and here he was taking it out on her. “I suppose it is better that you have the power than Corypheus, or Morrigan, which leads me to the next logical question...” He stood before her, wanting to be angry for the choice she had made, and his voice was stern when he spoke to her. “What I want to know is, what will you do with the power of the well once Corypheus is dead?” He waited with baited breath. Her answer was instant and unpretentious.

“The war has proved that we can’t go back to the way things were. I’ll use whatever power I have to try to help these people move forward.” Her answer shouldn’t have surprised him but it did. His words, words he had spoken to Mythal long ago, coming out of her mouth.

“You would risk everything you have in the hope that the future is better? What if it isn’t? Have you considered that? What if you wake up to find that the future you shaped is worse than what it was?”

A small, sad smile was on her lips as she stepped closer to him and took his hand in hers. “Then I’ll take a deep breath, learn from my mistakes, and try again.”

Solas snorted and rolled his eyes. She made it sound so simple. “Just like that?” he asked. She nodded, ignoring his cynicism.

“Yes, Solas. Just like that. If we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right. There are things that must change. The Chantry. The Templars. The elves...”

Solas felt the anger drain from his body. He simply nodded and raised his hand to stop her, his voice softened. “I know what you mean. And...thank you.”

Ma’alin blinked, surprised at the sudden diffusion of his temper, and her brow furrowed. “You’re thanking me...for what?”

Solas looked down, and took her hands in his. “You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor. You have...impressed me, time and time again. You honor the past and work to recover what we lost, even when the cost is high. And you have offered hope that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave...that someday, things will be better. I respect that, and I am indebted to you for the reminder.”

“You are strange man, Solas. You’re thanking me and yet you sound sad when you say it.” Her eyes searched his, her expression heartfelt and concerned.

“Forgive my melancholy, Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, and it’s stolen power...that, at least, we may still recover. With luck, some of the past may yet survive.” His people depended on him just as the Inquisition depended upon her. They each knew that one or both of them could die before this battle ended but he still had the deep, aching hope that together they could find a way to create a new world. He would fight for that or die trying.

“Solas? You’re talking like you’re going to die.” Ma’alin interrupted his thoughts as if she could read his mind. “Stop it, we’re going to get through this, Solas.”

“I hope you’re right.” He smiled sadly, his frustration vented, he now felt regret that he had raised his voice at her. Ma’alin hooked her finger into the waist of his smallclothes and drew him closer, a coy smile upon her lips. “You’re being grim and fatalistic in hopes of getting me into bed, aren’t you?” Her voice had turned dusky and velvety and her touch sent a shiver across his bare skin. Perhaps he had miscalculated the effect of his anger upon her.

“I am grim and fatalistic. Getting you into bed is just an enjoyable side benefit, Inquisitor.” He couldn’t help himself, her playful intimacy belonged to him alone and it was very, very hard to resist. She smiled up at him from beneath a fan of dark lashes and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Yes, well, we already know how much you enjoy my side benefits, don’t we?” She pressed her body against him, pressing his back against the cool stones of Skyhold’s walls. Her hands were cool as they cupped his face and drew him down to her, her lips ghosting against his, leaving feathery, breathy kisses in their wake. His hands came to her waist, his fingers clenched in the whisper thin fabric between them, and he breathed her in. Bright white crisp peaches that had just begun to turn yellow. Earthy jasmine floral. Fresh, pure rainwater. Her smell flooded his senses and he felt a deep stirring within, a primal reaction of his body to scents his mind associated now only with her.

“You’re not angry with me?” he asked.

She smiled demurely, running her fingers down his chest and trailing to his hips. “Quite the opposite.”

His hands trailed down to her thighs, lifting the shift above her waist, and he reached down to grasp her bottom with both hands. He smiled, his lips curving against her own, when he found she was once again not wearing her smallclothes. “Heathen” he whispered playfully as he grasped her bottom roughly, making her arch against him. 

"I have it on good authority that you like me that way,” she purred. Solas pulled her right thigh up to his waist and pulled her against him, pressing himself against her, showing her how much he wanted her.

“I like you. I love you.” The words came so easily now, he didn’t hesitate when he said them.

Ma’alin kissed his collarbone as she trailed her fingers down his arms. “I like you. I love you” she said softly.

Solas ran his hand up her thigh and caressed her softly. “I apologize. I should not have raised my voice to you. Please forgive me, vhenan.” Ma’alin planted a kiss upon his chest.

“There is nothing to forgive, Solas. You are worried and you feel very passionately about it. I’ve never had someone who cared for me as much as you do. You were forgiven as soon as you said it.” Solas leaned his head against the stone wall and drew her into his arms in a crushing embrace.

In one deft movement he picked her up and lifted her into the air, wrapping her legs around his waist. His lips found hers, soft and yielding, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He turned and pressed her against the wall, his fingers pulling at the hem of the tunic she wore until he had it pulled up to her waist. She grabbed his necklace, the wolf’s jaw, and threw it over his shoulder as he shimmied from his smallclothes. With his left hand he guided himself into her, feeling the warm slickness meet his fingers as he slowly inserted himself. A husky moan fell from her lips as he brought her down gently until she sheathed him fully. Her eyes closed as he held there against the wall, their breaths the only movement between them, and he became lost in her completely. Her body was liquid fire around him, stretching and quaking to accommodate him, and once it had it was as if they were one. His right arm held her tight around the waist. With his left hand he stroked the hair away from her face and caressed her cheek which was flushed with desire. She was biting her lip, anticipating his next move.

“Open your eyes, vhenan. Look at me.” he whispered. Her large green eyes met his, hooded with desire and pupils dilated, but there was no wanton need there. What he saw was a slow burn, the kind that could consume everything with a long, sustained blaze. Solas kissed her bottom lip, nipping at it and grazing it with his teeth. She hissed aloud, her fingers pressing against the back of his neck. He pressed his hips against hers, reading her expression as he arched his back and dipped further into her. Her lips curved into a coy smirk and she hummed her approval. Solas reached for her hands behind his head, grasped her wrists and quickly raised them above her head, holding them captive against the wall. She gasped in surprise and grasped his hips tighter between her thighs. Solas leaned into her until his lips were barely an inch from hers, and became still, her breath mingling with his own. Ma’alin was many things but she was rarely a needy lover. Right now, he wanted her to need him. She tried to kiss him but didn’t have the leverage to make the connection. He nuzzled his nose against her cheek, tracing lightly across her jaw to her ear, enjoying the feeling of being one with her. Her body was growing taut beneath his touch, aching for more. He placed a gentle kiss upon her neck, feeling her arch up onto him, craving the friction. He placed another chaste kiss upon her collarbone, feeling her fingers flex against his as he held them tight against the wall.

“Tease...” she whispered. He tensed within her and she arched her back against the wall, “...oh, Solas...please.” He fought back the smile as devoured her in a kiss. Pressing his hips tightly against hers, he slowly pressed up into her and then swiveled his hips, grinding against her. A soft moan bubbled up from within her and he inhaled it eagerly, stealing her breath. Slowly he ground his hips into a circular motion, staying closely in contact with her and within her. She pushed against him, vying for control and the chance to touch him but he held her hands tightly in his as he drove her closer to the brink. He arched his back and withdrew slightly, her tight grip pulling her hips away from the wall to move with him, and he rolled his hips against hers with a firmer pressure. Her chest heaved against his as she closed her eyes and moaned softly. He rolled his hips again, stirring her deeply, and added an extra touch by letting her slide down just a fraction of an inch so that he could lift her up again with every roll of his hips. She cried out softly as her hips were lifted against his own, bringing him deeper within her. Solas nipped at her shoulder to contain himself. She was slick around him and the pressure of the friction between them had made her sex firm and even more sensitive. There was more than one way to make a woman orgasm and his goal was to satisfy both those desires.

He held her firmly, rolling his hips in deep circular motions, thrusting with each roll, until beads of sweat began to form upon her brow and her breaths were coming short and fast. Holding her wrists with his left hand, his right arm held her around the waist, arching her back as he pulled her hips further away from the wall. His thrusts became quicker, hungrier, as her hips rocked against his. She began to whimper, small cries of need and frustration escaped her kiss-swollen lips as her body tightened, desperately craving release. She was on the edge and so was he. Her body was clenching all around him and he fought for control, focusing upon her. Her wrists were pressed against the wall, her fingers intwined in his left hand, her head back and her breasts ghosting beneath the sheer white shift that clung to her. Her hips were locked against his, rising up and down in unison with his thrusts and rolling with each motion. Her breaths had become gasps and her mews had become long moans that hardened him even more. He pushed deeper as he held her tighter, willing a thrust of his mana to rise up within her, caressing her with a humming vibration that reverberated deep in the core of her. In an instant she cried out, locking her thighs around him, her body twisting as she arched and yielded to the orgasmic rush. The anchor sparked wildly, illuminating her face in vibrant green flashes of pulsing electricity.

Solas held her tightly, hearing his own gasp as her body became molten hot and quaked around him, her orgasm sending ripples of pleasure over him. His fingers clenched hard, grasping a handful of her shift, as he met her in a deep thrust that broke his control, flooding him in waves of euphoric pleasure that left him calling her name. He moaned happily, kissing her shoulder, not wanting to leave her. His body spent, he leaned into her, pressing her back against the wall and pressing his face into her shoulder. He felt drunk, intoxicated with the rush and the response of his lover. She was his only desire, and she gave him her desire because she wanted him, and him alone. His lover moaned softly, her eyes still closed. She was still quaking around him, small aftershocks of pleasure that rippled through her and sent shivers down his body.

Solas gently withdrew from her and kissed her softly. He lips were soft and pliant against his, her body was also spent and she was so relaxed that she was quickly drifting into a euphoric state of drowsiness, the mark dormant once more. He lifted her body, cradling her in his arms, and carried her back to their bed. She moaned happily, already drifting into some dreamlike state. Solas crawled in beside her under the covers and kissed her again. She could use a few more hours sleep. He could think of no better way to fall in to a deep, peaceful slumber. He smiled, secretly congratulating himself. He couldn’t think of another time when he had spent his lover to the point of her passing out. He wrapped his body around hers and drew her in tight, his chin resting upon the top of her head. “Dream of me, vhenan” he whispered, and fell into a deep sleep beside her.  
_______

Solas found himself descending the stairs that led from her room to the great hall, his feet padding against the worn steps. All was dark, and the silence was so great that it rang in his ears. Skyhold felt empty and forgotten, a shell of it’s former glory. He opened the great oak door at the base of the stairs and entered the hall. Gone were the golden braziers, the Inquisition tapestries, the formal dining tables, and beautifully dressed courtiers. He turned, his nerves on edge, eyes searching for shadows in the darkness. Moonlight spilled through the shattered stained glass windows and illuminated a tattered throne that bore the faded, distressed symbol of the Inquisitor. Old, dried blood covered the floor around it. No one had been here in decades, perhaps a century. Solas stood upon the dais, his eyes narrowing, as he sensed the presence of another.

Intruder. Trespasser. An unwelcome figure had entered his dreams and brought him here.

“Show yourself, spirit, for I know you are there. You cannot hide from me.”

A woman stepped from the shadows and Solas lost his breath. It could not be...Wisdom, his Wisdom, formed from the darkness and slowly approached him. He wanted it to be her but he knew better. His friend was gone, twisted in to a demon and released back to the fade, now nothing more than a painful memory. This was an imposter. She came closer, her eyes hollow, as she held out her hands to him. He did not move, refusing to yield ground to this creature.

“Be gone, spirit. Your tricks are not welcome here.” he said cooly. Wisdom smiled, no, sneered as she stepped up to the dais before him.

“Haven’t you missed me, Solas? I know I have missed you.” Solas’ mouth had gone dry. The creature circled him, trailing her fingers through the air, creating green vaporous trails of mist that hung heavy in the air and swirled like smoke. “No one knew me like you knew me. No one else could touch Wisdom like you did, could they?” A demented giggle filled the room and echoed off the stone walls of the hall. Solas eyed the creature that circled him, looking beyond the face that it wore. He had a feeling that he knew this spirit well even though they had never actually met. The spirit stood before him, inching closer to him, too intimately. “Tell me, do you touch your Inquisitor the way you touched me?” she cooed to him.

“Liar,” he snarled in anger. “Come any closer and I’ll show you a very special touch, Envy. One that I promise you will never forget.” Solas met the wide-eyed gaze of the spirit, his eyes flashing brilliantly red in warning. The facade of Wisdom twisted and melted before him, revealing another friendly face from his past. Felassan. His former friend, former agent, stood before him in hooded cloak, his eyes accusing in anger.

“You dare make threats here? This is my home. You are just a visitor, in case you have forgotten.” Felassan’s eyes burned with green fury, too green. Not like the burnt umber and green grass of Felassan’s eyes, more like the empty vastness of the fade. Solas watched as he fell into a slump upon the seat of the throne and sighed heavily. “I really thought you would be more entertaining than this. You’re quite a disappointment, fadewalker.”

Solas turned to walk away. He had no patience for games and especially not for a spirit that was bent on toying with Ma’alin.

“Wait! I have not dismissed you!” Solas felt the change in the air as the spirit bore down upon him in rage, closing the distance between them. This visage of Felassan burned with anger as it circled him once more, eyes boring into his. He had to remind himself that this was not his friend, this was not anyone he had once cared for.

“What is it you want from me, spirit? Say it quickly for I am losing my patience.” Solas was irritated, restraining his desire to throttle this spirit and blast it into the oblivion. Such a disruption would have unknown effects though and he feared repercussions from this fickle spirit that some might call a demon.

Felassan threw back his head and laughed. “You know what I want! Come now, tell me, what will it take for you to walk away from her? Tell me what you desire and it is yours....just let her go.” The spirit leaned in as if to tell him a secret. “She’s better off without you, you know.” The spirit turned from him and held his arms out wide, gesturing to abandoned great hall.

“In a hundred years time, this is all that is left of the Inquisition. Dust and rot. Everyone she loves will be dead, ashes to ashes and dust to dust, but your Inquisitor will live on. And for what?” The spirit stooped to trail it’s fingers through the layer of dust that covered the floor. “Josephine. Dorian. Varric. Cole. All ash in the wake of what is to come. Look, I think I found a piece of Commander Cullen!” The spirit held up a piece of dried bone, licked the dust from the shaft and squinched it’s nose. “My mistake, this is Qunari.” It tossed the bone over it’s shoulder and sat crouched in the dust, eyeing Solas intently. It imagined itself clever and having the upper hand.

“You will betray her, you know this, just as you betrayed me.”

Solas cringed on the inside, feeling the pain of those words coming from Felassan’s mouth. “Except you are not Felassan. My decisions are my own, spirit, and I sleep with them at night. You can not break me by reminding me of my mistakes.” The spirit roared in frustration and turned it’s back to him, slinking into the shadows. There was a moment of silence and then another familiar voice called out from the darkness.

“You can’t give her what she wants. But I can.” Solas watched Commander Cullen step into the moonlight, shoulders squared and his hand upon the pommel of his sword. “You can’t hold her the way she needs to be held. You can’t give her a home and a family. You can’t keep her safe. You can’t give her the life she deserves. But I can...especially once she knows who you really are.” His voice was husky, laced with desire. Solas thought of all the times he had seen Cullen place his hand at the small of her back, whisking her away from him, and the twinge of jealousy he had felt each and every time. She was not in love with the Commander, but in another time, in a place where she and Solas were not together, he knew that Cullen was a possibility for her. It was no great secret that Cullen was smitten over her. Solas shook his head and focused upon the dark amber brown eyes of the Commander before him. He would not let this spirit shake him by feeding upon his fears.

“You could never give her what she wants. You have no true understanding of who she is and what she needs. You are a pretender and you do not have what it takes to make her bend to your will. I doubt any man does, for that matter.” Solas crossed his arms and leaned against the threadbare throne. Cullen stormed across the dais and got in his face, his brows furrowed and his eyes ablaze in fury. “I should cut you down where you stand and take her for myself. Believe me when I say she wants it more than you think she does. Have you seen the way she looks at me when you’re not looking? All it would take is a few words and a stroke of my hand and I’d have her on her back so quickly that she’d forget your name completely.” Solas roared in anger and lashed out against the spirit, sending him reeling, stumbling back off the dais and landing hard on the floor in the center of the great hall. Solas had enough and it was time to end this. He advanced on the spirit quickly, grabbing him by the back of the neck and jerking up off the floor. He spun the pretender around to face him and was caught off guard.

He was looking into his own eyes. The haughty look a quick-blooded elf, a younger version of himself, once known as Fen’harel and the God she said her prayers to. He released the spirit and took a step back.

“Give in, old man, no matter how the story goes I win in the end.” Envy as Fen’harel, a truly believable facade in this construct of the fade, rose from the ashes and dusted himself off, wearing a silken robe that clung to his lithe frame and the smug grin of conquest. He stood before Solas, a grim reminder of his shortcomings in the past. “She will be mine. You want to know why? Because I will give her the truth. I will show her things she has never dared to imagine and you will become nothing more than a very bad memory.” Solas turned from him and walked away. This was pointless. He raised his hand to open the veil when Fen’harel cut him off, slicing at his shoulder with a blade, drawing blood. Solas spun and grabbed him by the throat, his teeth bared as he snarled in anger. He pushed the young man against the wall with a loud thud that would have rendered most men unconscious. Instead, he was answered with laughter which enraged him more. Envy pulled at the fingers around his throat just enough that he could speak.

“Do you want to know what I see in your Inquisitor’s future? When the veil comes down so does she and everything she loves. I see chaos. I smell burning flesh, hear the wailing screams, and I hear your Inquisitor begging for mercy, clawing at her own flesh as she burns in the unquenchable flames...for you and I both know that what is bound to a God is bound to it for eternity.”

Solas pulled the vile creature from the wall and threw him across the room, his anger overcoming him. Fen’harel slid across the stone floor and quickly regained his footing, bracing himself against the opposite wall, preparing to leap. Solas was breathing heavy and he could feel his resolve crumbling. He wanted nothing more than to banish this spirit to the void so it could never touch her again.

“Stop this! Why can’t you find some other obsession to latch onto and leave her in peace?” He knew it was a pointless question, and he didn’t really expect an answer. He was wrong.

“Because I want her!” the spirit lashed out, revealing it’s true twisted form. The facade had evaporated and the demon that stood before him looked like something from a nightmare. It’s voice became gutteral and ravenous, it’s long fingers pulling at it’s saggy flesh in a fit of frustration. “I want what she has! Power! Influence! Fame! Wealth!” It shrieked in anger, it’s voice ringing off the rafters as it hobbled towards him on spindly deformed legs, the sickly paleness of it’s skin making his stomach turn. “I want her mind! I want her body! Her spirit! I want it all! I will devour her, take it all, and consume it until she is nothing and her world lies in ashes!” The spirit’s shrieks ended and it stooped before him, breathing rapidly. It’s milky white eyes met his and if such a creature could smile, he thought he saw it smile at him, it’s sharp fangs bared to reveal it’s horror. “And when I’m done, when I’ve had my fill, you can have what’s left of her, if there is anything left of her worth having.”

Solas leapt without thinking, primally reacting to the anger and rage that had boiled up inside of him. He twisted and clawed at the fade around him as he transformed into the wolf, the dark shadowy figure of vengeance with red flaming eyes. He was upon Envy before the vile creature had a chance to react, knocking them both into the shadows in a flailing heap. The Dread Wolf snarled and bared his teeth before biting into the corpse-like flesh of the creature, ripping and tearing with abandon. Envy flailed and tried to pull away from him, but Solas would not let go. He had to stop this creature from ever getting it’s claws into Ma’alin, no matter the cost. He pulled at the flesh until it ripped and then he dove for the vitals, dragging the carcass further into the darkened bowels of the hall. Envy’s shrieks were ear piercing and Solas drowned it out, covering the wails with his own snarling growls. Envy flailed, hitting him on the head, bashing him in the muzzle. He kept on. He would not stop until this vile creature was destroyed and he knew Ma’alin was safe. The writhing continued but his prey was becoming weaker. Solas began to paw at the ribcage, digging for the heart of it. He was almost there when a familiar shrieking scream startled him and sent him reeling.

Solas fell back, returning to himself, and tried to gather what had just happened. The bloodied creature still lay before him, writhing in agony. He crawled closer, hesitantly, his hands slipping in the blood that soaked the floor. The creature was coughing up the blood that flooded it’s lungs, it’s chest heaving violently with every spasm. He reached to grab it by the neck and he froze, all the blood in his veins turned to ice.

His fingers were tangled in long milky white hair, covered in wet blood.

He grabbed the frail body and pulled it close, dragging it from the shadows and back into the moonlight. The pale moonlight fell upon the delicate curve of Ma’alin’s cheekbones, the sharp angles of her jaw, the fading grey-green of her eyes, and her ivory hair soaked in blood. Solas screamed in agony! Her eyes tried to focus on him but her pupils were blown. Her lips were covered in blood and quivering, her ravaged body shaking in his arms as he picked her up and held her close to his chest. He had ripped her to shreds with his own hands! It was her blood he could taste in his mouth and her blood that spilled out upon the floor in deep crimson rivers. He heard his own shrieks echoing off the forgotten walls of the great hall as he clung to her. She took a ragged breath as he held her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers, hot tears stinging his eyes and flowing down his cheeks, pooling upon her blood soaked lower lip. He cried as he held her, the devastation ripping though him like a hot knife. Her lips moved as she tried to speak. He tried to shush her, to comfort her. He failed, not able to speak through his own grief. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Solas...what...have you done?” He held his breath, unable to answer. It was an accident, it was not supposed to be her! It couldn’t be her! It had been Envy, Fen’harel, Cullen, Felassan, hadn’t it? He began to doubt himself, racking his brain. He had been the wolf, and he had attacked the creature in a rage, and then...

He watched helplessly as the light left her eyes and one final breath escaped past her lips. The anchor dimmed and then extinguished like a candle snuffed by the wind. He moaned in grief and clutched her to his chest, rocking her back and forth, her warm blood still flowing down his arms and spilling upon the floor.

No please, not her. I would never hurt her. Please, please, no. No, not her. Not her. Anyone but her. Please, please, please...he was nothing without her. His screams echoed in the dark hall but there was no one to hear his cries.  
______

Solas awoke in a cold sweat with a startled cry, gasping for breath. He reached out across the sheets and found the bed empty.

“Ma’alin!’ He could hear the panic in his own voice. “Ma’alin!” He jumped from the bed and ran to the balcony. Not there. He checked her closet and bath. Not there. He grabbed his tunic before he sprinted down the stairs, he frantically pulled his shirt over his head and threw open the door. Many wide-eyed stares greeted him. He pushed past the curious courtiers to Varric standing at the fireplace in great hall. He tried not to think about the other version of this hall he had just awakened from.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. All she loved would be lost...

“Varric, the Inquisitor! Where is she?”

Varric eyes widened in surprise. “Good morning, yourself, Chuckles...”

Solas cut him short. “Have you seen her this morning, Varric? I need to know now!”

Varric glanced at him curiously. “Last I saw her she said she was headed to the old library down below...” Solas muttered a thank you and pushed past him. He ran down the staircase and past the vault to the library door. He threw it open, knocking books from the shelves, and rushed though the vestibule.

“Ma’alin!”

The chair at the desk pushed back and a book closed softly. Solas stopped, unable to go further, afraid of what he may find.

Ma’alin turned and peeked around the edge of the great chair, her eyes vibrant and alert. “Solas? Is something wrong?”

She was here, and beautifully alive. Solas hit his knees, his head hung low as he shuddered and let out a ragged breath. She jumped from the chair and ran to him. She knelt before him and cupped his face in her small hands and tried to make him look at her.

“Solas? You’re scaring me! What is wrong?” He wrapped his arms around her, grasping at her clothing, and buried his face in her hands.

“I had a vision...or a nightmare...I dreamt that I had lost you, and worse...that I had hurt you. When I awoke you were gone. It was so real, I had to know for sure...” Ma’alin wrapped her arms around his neck and held his head tightly to her chest. He held on to her like a man who was drowning as she tried to soothe him, caressing him gently while reassuring him.

“It’s alright. I am here. I’m not going anywhere, Solas. You would never do anything to hurt me, my love. Never. You and I both know that.” She kissed the top of his head, rocking him back and forth in her embrace just as he had done to her in the vision. Solas grasped her hands in his, his composure recollected, and his emotions calmed. It had only been a vision, a twisting of the fade by Envy. She was alive and well and he had not harmed her. He felt foolish for his panic and the loss of his control.

His composure regained, he stood and raised her to her feet. “I believe I met an acquaintance of yours in the fade. Envy.” Ma’alin’s look of worry for him turned to one of understanding.

“Say no more, Solas. I know the cruel jokes that Envy can play with the mind, making things appear all too real. You owe no apology to me. But why did it come to you?”

Solas shook his head slowly. That was not an answer she needed to hear. “I suspect it thinks that you are an easier target without me near and it desires my absence from your side. If so, it has sorely miscalculated your need of me to protect you.” He offered her a weary smile for reassurance.

Ma’alin smiled warmly, taking him by the hand and leading him from the library. “Let’s not talk of this anymore today. I will consult with Morrigan and see what insight she can offer. Envy poses no threat to me as long as I am not in the fade but there must be a way to prevent it’s intrusions into our dreams.” He let her lead him up the staircase and through the arch into his rotunda. As they passed his desk he saw a peculiar book that hadn’t been there before.

“Wait,” he leaned across the desk and picked up the thick green leather bound volume and turned it over. The faded golden font on the spine was still legible. “The History of Clan Sabrae as told by Hahren Paivel,” Solas read aloud.

A small note fluttered to the floor. Ma’alin picked it up and read it curiously. “It’s from Varric. It says, ‘Borrowed this from Daisy, I hope it was what you were looking for.’ Solas, what is this?”

Solas beamed happily, it was indeed what he had been looking for. “I have been doing some research into the Dalish clans in hope of finding something to give to you. Finally, it is here.” He could not help but smile as he looked upon her, feeling joy that he had found something only he could give her. “Ma’alin, this is the history of Clan Sabrae, the clan of your true people and of your parents. This is your history.” He handed her the tome which she held reverently in her hands, trailing her fingers across the worn cover.

“My people...I did not know I had a people. Thank you, Solas. I...I don’t know what to say. I don’t have the words to express what I want to say.” She looked up at him with glistening eyes.

Solas kissed her forehead. “Come with me, vhenan. Pack your things, we have much to discuss.” He turned from her to find Varric and thank him.

“Pack? Where are we going?”she asked incredulously.

Solas came back to her and took her in his arms. “I have another gift for you, Ma’alin.”

“Another gift for me? It’s not my name day, Solas.” She eyed him curiously.

He chuckled softly. “No, but I hope you will give me the pleasure of accepting my gift.” He lifted her chin to look deeply into her eyes. “What I want to give you is the truth. The truth of who I am. I desire for there to be no more secrets between us. You’ve asked me to trust you and I can think of no one else that deserves my trust as you do. Will you come, will you hear me, vhenan?”

Ma’alin threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, catching him off guard. His fingers entangled in her hair as he pulled her closer to him, breathing her in.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. So lurid, I feel as if I should look away. But I won’t, this is far too entertaining.” Ma’alin pulled away and Solas looked up to see Dorian leaning upon the railing above the rotunda.

“Please, don’t stop on my account, it was just getting interesting.” Dorian’s eyes glittered with mischief as he smirked in amusement. Ma’alin smiled and gave him a quick wave before she grabbed Solas’ hand and retreated to alcove of the staircase.

“We should really consider moving all your things to my rooms, Solas.” He kissed the nape of her neck, unseen by prying eyes.

“I have a better idea. Grab your things and meet me back here in 10 minutes. I know of some temple ruins not far from here where we could spend the night...” he smiled at her wickedly, remembering the last time they had been together in the ruins of the elven bathhouse.

She smiled up at him, her eyes dancing with mischief and desire. “Make it 5 minutes. I want you all to myself.”

Solas watched as she sprinted up the stairs. When she was gone, he leaned back against the wall, his hand resting over his heart and feeling it race beneath his fingertips. He smiled to himself and chuckled softly beneath his breath.

Finally. Finally he could tell her the truth and he would be free. His heart soared at the mere thought of it. He felt euphoric!

Finally. No more secrets. No more omissions. No more half-truths!

Just her and him and the truth. That was all he needed.

This was all he needed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas' line "Juleanathan i myathan na ove min'sal'shiral, i su uth'then'era" courtesy of fenxshiral and means "I shall worship and praise you through this life, and into uth'then'era"
> 
> Title inspired by the song "Bloodstream" by Stateless. 
> 
> "I think I might've inhaled you  
> I can feel you behind my eyes  
> You've gotten into my bloodstream  
> I can feel you flowing in me"


	24. Ar lasa mala revas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Ma'alin have traveled to Crestwood, the fateful destination that breaks the hearts of Solavellan shippers. I've attempted to weave the canon storyline with my original OC storyline of Ma'alin and I can only hope that it is successful. There are a few twists, and I have a few tricks up my sleeves, so bring the tissues...just in case. 
> 
> I will recommend a playlist for this chapter, in case you really want the feels.
> 
> 1\. Hozier - It will come back  
> 2\. 20 am Gare du Nord - Keaton Henson  
> 3\. Falling slowly - Glen Hansard  
> 4\. Flames - VAST

The cool night air kissed her skin, smelling of honeysuckle and fresh rain, and the sensation sent a tiny shiver trickling down her spine. Her eyes were closed and for a moment she lost herself in the darkness, not realizing she was holding her breath until her chest began to ache. She breathed shakily, and without thinking, her hands came to her face. Her fingertips were cool against her cheeks as she traced the path of the vallaslin of Mythal, the arching golden branches that swept across the pale skin of her cheekbones and temple. She searched by touch and found only smoothness where the branches had been, her skin feeling the tingling even more than before from the energy of the thinly stretched veil that made this place feel electrically charged.

She could hear him breathing, slowly, shallowly. She could feel his apprehension and she could feel his eyes upon her without looking. He was waiting on her reaction. Her reaction…how did she feel? There was a brief feeling of sadness and regret, not from losing her vallaslin but from the knowledge of how it came to be. She had never wanted it, Mythal was not her protector, but Fen’harel had no vallaslin. In the end, she had chosen what she had vaguely remembered of her mother, a distant memory of a woman who had smelled of jasmine and had pale tree branches upon her cheeks. Now she felt…hesitant. Others would no longer see her as Dalish, they would only see her. And yet it was as if Solas had erased the past, removed the reminder from her face, and the realization made her feel grateful. She breathed deeply, settling into a calm acceptance, and opened her eyes.

His expression was worried, his brows knit in anticipation as he searched her eyes for an answer, for some semblance of how she felt. She touched her cheek again, making sure she hadn’t dreamed it. When her eyes met his he must have found what he was searching for, his expression changing into one of pride and accomplishment, his eyes glistening in the pale light of the moon as it danced upon the water in the grotto. She had seen that look before but this time his pride swelled for her and the choice she had made. He placed his hand upon her cheek, his thumb lightly caressing the place where her vallaslin had once been.  His lips pursed and his eyes met hers with such intensity that found herself instinctively leaning into him.

“Ar lasa mala revas,” he spoke to her, his voice warm and tender. “You are free.” He took her hands in his and helped her stand. Standing before him, she felt fully known, no more barriers between them. Her heart quickly picked up pace as the intensity of the moment fully hit her. This was it, this was the moment she had been anticipating. No more secrets, no more half spoken words. He had brought her here to tell her the truth and the time had come at last. She looked up at him expectantly, biting her lip to keep the words from spilling out.

 _Tell me,_ she thought to herself.  
_  
_ _Tell me. I need to hear it, I need you to let go. You’re so afraid of falling, and I’m afraid of being swallowed up by you, but we can fall together! I’d catch you. Tell me…_

His eyes never left hers as he brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek, his hand unfolding to cup her cheek in his palm. He ran his fingers through her hair, the corner of his mouth twitched at the small smile tugging at his lips as he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and drew her in.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as his eyes lingered on her lips. Gently, so gently, he drew her into his arms and held her tight. His arms enveloped her small frame and leaned into him, relishing the warmth and the smell of him. He smelled of cloves, aged leather, freshly fallen leaves, with a faint hint of campfire smoke that lingered on his tunic. And something else…was that jasmine? She inhaled and smiled. Solas’ scent was uniquely his but now a bit of her had rubbed off on him.

A finger under her chin lifted her from her thoughts as he leaned down to kiss her. His lips were warm, so soft, and his kiss was intoxicating. He kissed her slowly, his lips lingering on hers as their breaths mingled together. She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. His touch was maddening and she wanted more of him. She clutched at his shirt, drawing him ever closer. A small moan escaped his lips and his kiss became hungrier as he began to let go of his restraint. His fingers tangled in her hair as he kept her drawn into him, his tongue seeking entry to meet hers, and stealing her breath in his passionate efforts.

 _I love you like this_ , she thought. _You kiss me and all the world disappears._ _Don’t stop. Never stop._

Solas’ kisses became slower and achingly soft, his fingers untangling from her long hair as he smoothed out the mussed tendrils with a gentle touch. He pulled back only slightly, his eyes meeting hers with such warmth, love, and pride that her heart ached. No one had ever looked at her the way he did. People had told her that she had an unusual kind of beauty, something she had never placed much merit upon, but when he looked at her like this she felt beautiful. His eyes met hers, soft and warm, and he radiated happiness in her arms. She wished everyone could see this side to him and yet she was glad that it was a gift he gave only to her. She was still reeling from his kiss, everything was fuzzy and she felt as if she were floating as she leaned into him, still held tight in his arms. She looked up at him to see if he was as affected as she was and she froze, her giddiness disappearing as his expression began to change from adoring lover and friend to one of disapproval and aversion. Her heart dropped in her chest.

“Solas…?” He began to withdraw from her quickly and she couldn’t stop herself from gripping the sleeves of his tunic to prevent him from withdrawing further. He looked at her as if he had seen a ghost, his face gone pale and small beads of moisture beginning to form upon his brow.

“I am sorry. I have distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.”

His words were short, clipped, and matter of fact. He began to pull away before she could register what was happening! She wanted to hold him fast, to close the distance between them, but he shooed her hands away from him and he quickly took a step back from her, breaking the intimate space between them. Something inside her was clenching in fear as her mind scrambled to make sense of what he was saying. She felt as if she had been pulled from a warm hazy dream and thrown into the frozen waters of a winter river. She was paralyzed with confusion. She reached out to the only safe place she knew, reaching for his hands, but he withdrew further. He held up his hands to create a barrier between them and to hold her back from making any further advance.

“ _Please_ , vhenan.” His voice was strained, eyes wide in…fear? Disdain? But he had called her vhenan, his heart, surely she had misunderstood.

“Solas…” She stepped towards him slowly, careful not to make him retreat further. “I don’t understand. Stay, don’t leave me, not now. Solas, I love you.” Her voice was trembling and threatening to give out, and she didn’t even know what she was trying to say.

_I love you. Don’t go. Gods, what else can I say to make you stay? What have I done?_

He looked at her sorrowfully, as if she had inflicted great pain upon him. “You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world…”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears but her heart was screaming in agony. “No. Don’t say it that...”

“Ma’alin, please. In another world…” he pleaded with her, trying to supplicate her. She cut him off before he could say more because whatever he said was just going to be a justification that was a lie. She clenched her hands hard at her side, her knuckles whitening as she tried to focus on the moment.

“Why not this one???” she softly cried out to him, her voice betraying her by breaking before she could say more.

Solas’ eyes widened as she stepped towards him again and he pushed his hands out towards her forcefully, palms creating a barrier between them to keep her at a distance. “I… _can’t_!” He looked at her, his eyes dead, and his posture looking not like the proud Solas she knew but rather a  defeated and forlorn man with no hope.

“I’m sorry.” He looked at her once more longingly before turning his back on her and taking the first step to walk away from her. Unshed tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t watch him go. She wouldn’t!

“I don’t want to lose you, Solas.”

His shoulders slumped but he took another step, answering her without looking. “I will see you back at Skyhold.”

_Damn you and your stubbornness! And damn me, too. I will not beg. I will not._

“I’m not giving up on you, Solas. Leave me if you wish, but I will not give up on you.”

That stopped him in his tracks. His shoulders heaved with heavy sigh but he did not turn to face her.

“You really should. I am sorry. I…the fault is mine, please believe I never wanted to hurt you.”

She had bought herself some time. He was hesitating, perhaps even hoping for her forgiveness. She would not give it, not while there was a chance to show him that he was safe with her.  

_Please want to stay. Want me. Want us. Oh, stupid and naïve, Ma’alin…think! Think!_

Something in her steeled her core and made her braver than she felt. A sudden calm began to overcome her. No, she would not beg. She would not plead for someone to love her.

“Solas…” she spoke low and calm, drawing his attention. He turned to face her, his expression wary, the space between them echoing with emptiness. She raised her chin in defiance of the fear and the hurt that ate away at her and she dared him to meet her gaze, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the water that lay behind her.

“Solas, look at me.” His eyes cautiously met hers, his brow knit and weary.

“Tell me you don’t care.” She sounded calm and she was glad for that small mercy.

He frowned, weighing his words, before uttering tiredly, “I can’t do that.”

Ma’alin’s chest heaved in a hitched breath as she tried to breathe again. He cared, still cared, so why was he trying to destroy all that they were? How far did she dare to push him? Her mouth went dry and her fingers trembled. The last time he had made her tremble it had been for an entirely different reason.  She narrowed her eyes, holding his gaze, and she swallowed hard.

“Tell me you don’t love me.” Her voice was calm despite the tremor.

His eyes burned hers with their intensity, a conflicting mix of chagrin, wounded pride, and a flare of anger that she had only seen from him once before when the mages had turned Wisdom into an abomination.

“I can’t. I won’t. But it does not change things, Ma’alin. I am sorry.”

“Stop saying that. Stop telling me you’re sorry. Tell me why.”

“You know why. The threat of Corypheus is too great…” With that, he turned away from her once more to leave.

Ma’alin’s hands shook beyond control. She didn’t know what else she could say to make him stay, especially if he did not want to. She watched him widen the gap between them. She couldn’t watch him walk away from her, she couldn’t! There was something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on and if she couldn’t figure it out she was going to lose him. She thought back to their last conversation in Skyhold, how excited and carefree he had been. He had promised her something…

“Solas,” she called to him once more, “…you promised me.”

That stopped him for a moment before he shook his head and continued.

“You made me a promise, Solas. Does that mean nothing to you?”

Solas stopped and turned on her, frustrated and tired. “I know what I said. But it’s over. Let it go.”

“No. You promised me.”

“Ma’alin, do not do this. You’re making it worse than it already is…”

“You promised me, Solas. You made me a promise and you’re breaking it.”

“Ma’alin…” he stepped towards her slowly, his shoulders squared but his calm façade was beginning to show cracks.

“You promised.” She suddenly had the feeling that she was playing with fire. She was pushing him more than she should but if she was right, she had a chance at breaking down the wall he had built between them once again. Solas closed the distance between them, his eyes burning into hers. He was so close now that she could reach up and touch him. She didn’t, but she could have.

“You promised me.” Her tone was calm and steady. She was challenging him with the hope that she could get through his defenses.  Solas looked at her, his eyes grown weary, and his worried expression had drawn the corners of his mouth down. He shook his head slowly as he looked into her eyes, silently asking her to let him go.  

“You don’t know what you are asking for, Ma’alin.” His voice was thick with emotion that he was fighting back.

Her chin raised involuntarily in defiance. “I can’t be any clearer, Solas. ‘No more secrets,’ you said. ‘I promise,’ you said. You can’t tell me you don’t care for me. And pushing me away is not the same as letting me go.” She reached for his hands and he did not withdraw from her touch this time. A silent war was being raged within him and he was just as close to staying as he was to leaving again. Was she being unfair and childish? He always let her make her own choices and yet she wasn’t returning him the favor. She sighed and squeezed his hands.

“Solas, you are my love, my dearest companion, and my beloved friend. I don’t understand what is happening, but if you want me to let you go…if this is what you want, I won’t stop you. But don’t ask me to stop loving you.”

Solas closed his eyes and winced as if in pain, his fingers curled around her hands. There was a long pause before he spoke again. His eyes met hers but they were distant, absent of the glow and good humor that normally resided there. “Very well. If you desire the truth, you shall have it. And when this is over we will see if you still feel the same way. Come, I have something to show you.”

Solas took her hand and walked towards the pool of water that lay between the grotto and the tall cliff that formed a natural boundary around this oasis. He stepped into the water and held her hand steady as she followed. The water quickly engulfed them and she was waist deep in the cool waters, shivering at the coolness against her skin. She looked up at the statues of hart the stood guard over this lost place, the elven murals fading upon the walls that had been drawn by the ancient elves, and wondered what could possibly be here that he wanted to show her. Solas reached a small ledge in front of cliff rocks and pulled himself out, turning to lift her beneath her arms until they stood together against the rock wall directly behind the cascading waterfalls that poured from the cliffs into the grotto. She shivered as the fine mist settled upon her face and hair.

“Solas?” She didn’t understand where they could possibly go from here. Solas merely gestured behind her. She turned and saw an opening in the rock face, sheltered from view from anyone but those seeking it’s entrance, and a warm glow was flickering within. She stepped forward and ducked her head until she had entered a tall cavern that lie hidden within the cliff. She stared in awe at the beautiful crystal and granite walls, echoing the sounds of the waterfall drifting in. Solas came in silently behind her. She looked at the bed rolls upon the stone floor, the lanterns, the books…his books. He had been here before. She had been diverted to Caer Branach on the way here…is this where he had stayed while waiting for her?

“Forgive me, I had hoped to surprise you. I thought that this place…well, it does not matter now what I thought.” His voice was gloomy and he looked very tired. Ma’alin stood silent, she did not know what to expect from him now.

Solas took a deep breath. “Best not to linger any longer.” Solas turned from her to face the smooth walls of the cavern, his left palm facing up and crackling with energy as he placed his right palm on the flat surface of the wall. He closed his eyes, his left hand gesturing in grand swirls as iridescent green tendrils of magic began to swirl about him. Ma’alin watched in amazement as the lanterns flickered and brightly colored murals began to appear on the walls of the cavern. Solas removed his palm from the stone and stepped back to appraise his work, his face flickering in the light as the lantern regained it’s composure in the air as it stilled, the green tendrils of magic fading into the darkness.

Ma’alin stepped forward at his gesture and began to look at the magnificent murals. These were his work, there was no doubt. The mural looked like a companion piece to his work in Skyhold. Vibrant blues, russet reds, fade greens, golden yellows and outlines of metallic gold soared to the very ceiling. But this mural was strange and she did not know the faces in this mural. Solas stood behind her, his warmth close enough to feel through her damp clothes.

“This was to be part of my surprise.” He spoke softly, his cool façade back in place upon his calm features.

Ma’alin stood in awe at the beauty of his work. “This is amazing, Solas. But, what does it mean?”

“This is the story of us. Look there…” He placed his hand upon her shoulder and guided her to the far left of the mural where she could see the figures of a faceless man, woman, and a child silhouetted against the night sky. The man was tall, broad shouldered, with long blonde hair. He wore the elven armor of a warrior, long sword handle peeking over his shoulder. The woman at his side was more delicate, with milk white hair that flowed in the wind, wearing a mage’s robe in deep crimson colors. In her arms was a small child with ivory hair, swaddled in emerald green blankets.

“I’ve been studying the history of your clan. Your father, Anth’elan, was a renowned warrior in Clan Sabrae. His life is well documented, many of his achievements are noted in the book given to me by Varric. Your mother,” he gestured to the slight figure next to the warrior, “U’venlea, was clanless. She married your father and adopted his clan as her own. There is not much known about her in the books, but I can tell you that she was a very gifted Somniari and her blood descends from the purest lines that can be traced back to Mythal.”

Ma’alin looked at him questioningly. “You don’t mean that…” Solas nodded and pointed again at the mural, drawing her attention back to the fresco.

“The child is you, a descendant of Clan Sabrae, the most ancient of the Dalish clans, and a direct descendant of Mythal. You inherited many of your mother’s gifts, even if you do not yet realize it.” She stood silent, dumbfounded. She’d spent her entire life wondering who her parents were, what they were like, if they had loved her…she reached up to touch the mural, her fingers trailing the hem of her mother’s robes.

“I remember so little of her. Do I look like her?” Solas nodded. “You look very much like her.”

Ma’alin looked closer. “She does not have vallaslin. I could have sworn she did.”

“Not when your father met her. That came later. It was a price she paid to be part of the clan.” Ma’alin nodded in acceptance of his explanation, too overwhelmed to question how he knew this. In this moment, he seemed to know everything about her past and she knew nothing. He gestured and led her to the next tableau. Flames on a grassy plain, shapes of aravels covered in billows of smoke against a cerulean sky. The burning of her clan, the death of her parents. She did not need an illustration to feel the memory of flames and scorching heat all around her. The smells, the screams, the faint image of strangers taking the halla, but there in the corner of the mural was a small child with ivory curls, lying atop a huge white wolf as it carried her from the carnage and towards a river. Her wolf. Her friend. She touched the image of the majestic creature as she was flooded with memories that had long ago been buried in the past and forgotten.

“I remember, Solas. I remember never wanting to leave him. I had lost everything but he saved me. He haunts my dreams, you know. I’ve seen him so many times, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was imagining it or if he was really watching out for me.” Solas said nothing, took her hand, and guided her to the next mural. A secluded thicket, surrounded by lush greenery, where a young girl sat the base of a shrine to Fen’harel and laid flowers upon the rock hearth of the statue. Growing up in Clan Lavellan, this had been her refuge. The long abandoned shrine to the Dread Wolf had been overgrown and forgotten. She placed her fingertips upon the image of the shrine.

“Here I prayed and here my prayers were answered. Then I knew without a doubt that Fen’harel was real and he had protected me from the human hunter that found me there. I don’t think I ever told you that, Solas. In the temple of Mythal you mentioned this. How did you know?” Solas was silent, his jaw clenched. He quickly whisked her to the next mural without a remark.

The next mural was simple and without adornment. A white fox silhouetted before the outline of an ancient shrine to Fen’harel, a fox necklace dangling from her neck. She smirked and nodded her head. Even in his abstract imagery she could see the meaning of this mural.

“Name day. No longer Ivoriel, this is the day I became Ma’alin, the traitorous First to Clan Lavellan.” She shook her head at the memory of the Keeper and all that occurred between them on that day in the cave with Thalenn. Solas was looking at her, his eyes transfixed on her as she met his gaze. Yes, he remembered as well, a faded memory and the glimpse she had given him of her world. Ma’alin reached up and touched the frosty white paint on the fox’s tail, as if touching it made it more real. “Only you could take something so awful and turn it into something beautiful like this, Solas.”

“I am pleased that you like it. Come, we are at the end.” Solas turned from her and moved slowly to the last mural. Bright viridian green burst upon the sky in a vivid depiction of the breach, beneath it stood two figures hand in hand, their conjoined hands thrust forcefully to the heavens as the anchor arced and met the breach in a blinding display of sparking energy. The smaller figure with ivory white hair was her, and the figure at her side was unmistakably Solas. The desolate landscape had once been the Altar of Sacred Ashes, and this had been the day they first met. Ma’alin studied it silently, pondering.

_What does it mean? What is this supposed to tell me that I don’t already know?_

She looked at him but he did not meet her eyes. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, looking graceful even as he looked nonchalant. She was missing something, she could feel it. It was as if he was waiting for something to happen. Ma’alin backed away from the wall to take it all in. She leaned her back against the cool wall of rock, crossed her arms, and began to study it.

The mural was a story…her story. But she knew most of her story, at least in general terms. Her parents…she knew so little about them, but a descendant of the Goddess Mythal? That seemed highly unlikely. She was just a girl from a small clan, forgotten and without a family. Without the anchor and the Inquisition she probably would have been on her own in the forests trying to survive on her own.

Her mind was wandering. She focused on the mural again but she was missing a vital puzzle piece. She moved away from the wall to face him.

“Solas, this is extraordinarily beautiful. But…I don’t understand; you said this is the story of you and me and yet this is _my_ history. I only see you here,” she pointed to the last fresco, “and some of this, I have no idea how you know these things.”

Solas’ eyes met hers, guarded and wary. “Look again if you would have the truth, Ma’alin. Forgive me, I can offer no other explanation.” He moved away from the wall, eyes on the floor, and passed her as he walked to the cave entrance.

“You’re leaving?”

Solas looked over his shoulder and replied softly, “I will be outside. Come when you are ready to leave.” He quickly ducked beneath the entryway and stepped into the night where the lantern’s light no longer reached him. Ma’alin stood in the center of the cave perplexed. Stubborn, prideful Solas. Why didn’t he just tell her instead of leaving her here to try to decipher his cryptic clues. With a heavy sigh she sat upon the stone floor and pulled the bedroll up to her shoulders to warm herself.

_Look again if you would have the truth…_

She started from the beginning. Her parents. The murder of her clan. The shrine in the woods. The fox. The breach. When the answer didn’t come to her, she started again. And again. She stared at the mural of the white fox silhouetted by the statue of Fen’harel. The fox was the symbol of the traitor, a companion to the Dread Wolf, her Keeper had said. It seemed strange to see the two images united, the white fox and the large weathered statue of the Dread Wolf. He had painted them in such a way that they did not look much unlike one another. She began to run the associations through her mind.

_White fox, Dread wolf. Ma’alin, Fen’harel. Companion to the Traitor and the Traitor himself. Ma’alin the companion of the Traitor and the fox, Fen’harel the Traitor and the wolf…_

Something clicked. She rose quickly to her feet, throwing back the bedroll. She rushed to the mural of her parents. She touched the child with the ivory curls. “The fox…but where is the wolf?” She scanned every corner of the painting and found none, but she was certain it was there. She took a few steps back and tried to look again. Three figures silhouetted against the night sky…she squinted her eyes and looked again.

There it was! The wolf’s head was cleverly hidden in the shape of the night sky, stars strategically placed for eyes. It was so subtle but it was obvious if you knew what you were looking for!  She turned to the second mural. The wolf was obvious in this mural, wolf and child retreating from the mural in the bottom corner but she looked for more, and found it. The shape of wolf in the swirling tendrils of smoke that rose from the burning aravels! She rushed to the third mural. A wolf’s head hidden in the shapes of the branches and  leaves of the forest trees above the shrine of Fen’harel, and her kneeling at the shrine made her the fox! She tripped over a bag as she stumbled to the next mural. Name day, the fox and the wolf, so clear in their depiction. And finally the last mural! She searched the swirls of the breach and found no discernable shapes. There had to be something! She was so close, her pulse racing, but where was it? It was just two figures, her and Solas, beneath the breach. Her frustration was clouding her thoughts.

_No, I almost had it! I know I am close. Follow the pattern, Ma’alin! Think logically…you’re looking for a fox and the Dread Wolf, hidden in plain sight._

She stared at the breach, but her eyes kept coming back to the two figures, hand in hand. A dangerous thought began to dawn upon her…but it couldn’t be true…it couldn’t be possible…and yet her body’s primal response proclaimed the truth of it and she _knew_.

A small cry escaped her lips and she quickly clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle it. Her heart had fallen in her chest and her breath caught in her throat. She took a step back, stumbling over the bedroll, and a lantern went skidding across the floor. Her back hit the wall and she slid down it, unfeeling as she landed hard upon the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest.

_The Dread Wolf! Oh Gods, so many times he had tried to tell her!_

She thought of the ballroom in the fade, his vision of Arlathan. What had he said to her then? _“_ _...do you want me to be the Dread Wolf?_ ” And when she said that all she wanted was him, he had replied, “ _Such a pity. You could have had it all_.”

All his talk of secrets, the words he had spoken to Abelas at the Well of Sorrows, the things he knew about her that he couldn’t have known…and the time he had asked her if she still prayed to the Dread Wolf only to tell her “ _h_ _e hears you ._ ” Was he teasing her? Trying to give her hints?

Ma’alin felt something hot upon her arm and it brought her back to her senses. The lantern had spilled over and caught one of the bedrolls on fire! She scrambled away from the flames and against the far wall just as Solas rushed in through the entrance, shielding his eyes from the heat.

“Ma’alin! Ma’alin?!” he called to her. She didn’t answer, her senses overwhelmed. He grabbed a blanket and began beating out the fire until only tendrils of smoke remained, quickly wafting through the cave entrance and into the night air. Solas waved his arms to clear the air and then picked up the remaining lantern, shining it about until the light fell upon her. He frowned but his eyes were full of concern and distress. He came and crouched before her, setting the lantern to the side. “Are you hurt?”

She looked at him, really looked at him, and she knew it to be true. “You are the wolf. I think I might have always known, to some extent.” Solas was expressionless. He made no indication that she was wrong. She took a deep breath. “.…you’re Fen’harel.” The words felt strange on her lips. Solas’ expression changed to one of a humble sort of pride.

“Very good.” An empty silence began to stretch between them as the truth was finally laid bare. Solas’ eyes never left hers. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and even. “I was Solas first. Fen’harel came later, an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies. Not unlike Inquisitor, I suppose.” He looked away from her, his jaw clenched. When his eyes met hers again his expression had softened, his eyes full of regret. “And now you know. What is the old Dalish curse? ‘May the Dread Wolf take you’?” A sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“And so he did...” She thought of the times she had said those words in intimate moments between them and she inwardly felt shame at her naivete. Solas shook his head, his brow knit in concern.

“I did not. I would not lie with you under false pretenses. I have always been Solas. That has not changed.” He was earnest and his sentiment felt honest, but she was still hurt.

“You lied to me, Solas.” She could feel the stinging in her eyes, the ache in her chest.

“Only by omission.” Solas rose and stood before her. He ran his hands over his face and sighed deeply. “I told you that one day I hoped to confide my secret to you. This is what you wanted. The truth. There are no more secrets between us.”

Ma’alin shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around all of this. She understood why he felt the need to keep his secret to himself, but how could he not think that he could trust her with this? Her heart felt broken. He would rather end everything than to confide the truth to her. “I’ve loved you, Solas. You should have trusted me. Instead, you’re trying to push me away! Did you really think I wouldn’t have understood?”

His shoulders drooped, and he crouched before her again. He was close enough to touch but neither one reached out to the other. “Ir abelas, vhenan. I did not want you to bear my burden. You have enough on your shoulders.”

“Tel’abelas!” Her voice was hard, masking the hurt. “You did not trust me, Solas!”

“What would you have had me say, Ma’alin? That I was the great adversary in your people’s mythology?” He was hurting, she could see it in his eyes. “The Dalish think of me as a monster. I could not bear to have you look at me like that.” She could not imagine the torment he must have felt inside when he first learned what the Dalish taught their people about him.

“I could never...you should know I have never considered you, or Fen’harel that is, as the other Dalish do. I’ve always known that our legends about you were wrong.”

Ma’alin was not sure what to feel. He appeared resigned to his decision. She began to wonder if she had known all along. No, but she had suspected he was Elvhen after the conversation with the sentinel Abelas. That alone had been an unimaginable thought and yet it explained so many questions she’d had about Solas. But this, this was more complicated. Fen’harel had been a constant presence in her life in more ways than she ever imagined.

“Did you know, Solas? When I was found at the breach, did you know it was me?”

“No. It was not until later, after we reached Skyhold, that I made the connection.”

“And you couldn’t tell me? What about Mythal? Is that in Varric’s book, too?”

Solas stared at his hands, expressionless. “I suspect you have many questions. Those can wait for another time. Come, I will see you back to Skyhold.” His eyes met hers as he held out his hand to her, formal and polite. She did not take it.

“Tell me how to do this…whatever this is, where you can be polite and pretend nothing ever happened between us. Tell me how to walk away from you as if I never loved you.” Ma’alin could feel anger bubbling up inside of her from the hurt and she could not hide it.

“I am not pretending,” he sighed. “I am merely trying to focus on…”

“Why couldn’t you trust me, Solas?” She felt a single, hot tear begin to stream down her cheek.

Solas sighed heavily. “I’m trusting you now.” Without thinking, he reached and swept his thumb across her cheek, wiping the tear away. “Please believe me when I say I thought of telling you many times, but how was I supposed to tell you? When? After the first kiss when you sought me in the fade? After the Temple of Mythal when I had tried to make you see…,” he shook his head. “It was too late. I thought if I brought you here, if I could explain, then maybe you would still be able to look at me and see _me_ , not Fen’harel or the _damned_ Dread Wolf!” He spit out the last word as if it were a curse.

Ma’alin quickly rose from the floor and knelt on her knees before him, getting eye level so he could read her expression in the warm light of the lantern. She reached up tentatively to touch him, her fingers extending to caress his face. His hand caught her wrist and held it at a distance.

“No. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me like that, Ma’alin.” The furrow in his brow should have been a warning but she was done listening to warnings from the lips of the man who’s eyes were pleading with her not to stop.

“Why shouldn’t I look at you, Solas? Fen’harel,” she let the word resonate in the silence between them, “…you are beautiful in my eyes. No matter what, I love you. I’ve loved you since I first met you. And I’ve fallen in love with you over and over again, no matter how hard you’ve tried to hide yourself from me.” Solas’ hand relaxed, his fingers encircling her wrist as he absently stroked the soft skin at the base of her palm. Ma’alin cautiously raised her other hand to his cheek and brushed her thumb across his cheekbone. His eyes closed as he leaned his cheek into her palm, a ragged breath escaping his lips.

“I want to be the man you see when you look at me, not the monster that others believe me to be.” His hand met hers and he opened her palm to lay a gentle kiss on the flesh of her palm, upon the mark that flickered at his touch.

“I look at you and I don’t see a monster, Solas. I don’t see a God, untouchable and frightful. I see a man who is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I can’t imagine how much you have suffered, but don’t you think you have suffered enough?” His eyes met hers, clear and earnest, no veil of caution to be seen.

_Please, Solas, hear me…see me…fall and I promise to catch you_

Solas touched her face, his fingers trailing down her neck. “I know who I am when I’m alone, and I’ve spent a very long time alone. But with you…I’m someone else when I’m with you. You make me a better man.” His hand came to rest just above her heart, and he pressed his palm down until her heartbeat could be felt beating against his hand. “This is where I live and die. This is the only place where I can say I have ever been truly loved.”

Ma’alin clasped his hand above her heart and held it fast, willing him not to withdraw it. Her pulse began to race beneath his touch. “You are so loved, Solas. There are parts of you that I don’t know yet, but I want to. Please, vhenan’ara, you’ve suffered long enough, and warred with yourself, isn’t it time to let that go?”

Solas’ eyes searched hers as they had many times before, searching for an answer truer than words. She held his gaze, willing him to see the truth.

_I love you more than life itself. Why can’t you see that?_

His furrowed brow relaxed and soft sigh escaped his lips. Slowly he leaned in to her and she met him halfway, waiting for his next move. He had to come to her, it _had_ to be his decision.

His hand grazed her cheek as he brought it to the back of her neck and drew her in closer until his lips met hers. His kiss was whisper soft, tentative, and slowly lingering. She held his palm firmly clasped against her chest, her heart beating out a cadence that called out to him, skipping a beat when he gently opened her mouth with his tongue and drew her deeper into the kiss. A shiver ran down her body and she yielded to him as he wrapped her in his arms, her body held tight against his. His kiss was making her dizzy and she held onto him lest she should lose herself. Slowly, his kiss became feathery soft once more and when he finally pulled away he stayed close enough that his lips brushed hers.

“Tell me you don’t love me, Solas. Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll call you a liar,” she whispered against his lips. He pressed his forehead against hers and took a ragged breath.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He brushed the hair from her face with his fingertips and kissed her forehead. He held her for a few moments before speaking again, her head cradled in the curve of his neck. “You don’t know, do you? No, I suppose you couldn’t.”

“Know what, Solas?” She caressed the hand that still lay upon her heart. 

“You will never understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need." He lifted her chin to look into her eyes, his own eyes a deep indescribable blue visible even in the dim light. "Ma'alin, whatever comes, I will have you by my side. If you can accept me, promise never to fear me..."

His words pierced her and gave her hope. "I love you as you are, Solas, why can't you see that? You've despaired and worried about what would happen if you told me and now I know, and I'm still here. I have a million questions, but..."

Solas put his finger to her lips and shushed her, a smirk upon his lips. "There will be plenty of time for questions later. Forgive me for the things I said earlier this evening? That was not how I had originally planned to surprise you."

"I forgave you before you even asked. Solas, I..."

Solas interrupted her with a kiss, pulling her into his arms and leaning her back until she clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His kisses were white hot, leaving her breathless. Words of ancient Elvhen rolled off his tongue between heavy breaths. He muttered something she did not understand, and when she didn't answer, he broke the kiss and said it again, his voice was velvety and full of unrestrained love and devotion.

 

  

 

"Marry me, vhenan." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any typos, this was posted very late and I wanted to post it before the weekend was over. Corrections will come later.


	25. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long delay in updates. I've been so busy with little free time to myself and it sapped all inspiration away from my story. Thank you to the readers who have stuck around and I appreciate your sweet comments letting me know you were still here and still waiting. Your words are more appreciated than you know. <3

Solas paced back and forth, his brow furrowed and his gait aggressive. Reaching the end of the rotunda he promptly turned and retraced steps.

“Fool,” he muttered beneath his breath, “I am a complete and utter fool.”

“Talk louder, Chuckles, I’m straining to hear you.” Varric teased from the open doorway. Solas shot him a glare that made Varric wince as if hit by unseen daggers and resumed his pacing. Varric had been quietly watching over him from his usual post at the door into the Great Hall, an amused look upon his face and a gleam in his eye, ever since Solas had tripped over a corner of the rug under his desk and cursed ‘fenhedis’ much louder than he had realized.

“Leave me, Master Tethras,” he said sharply, giving him a glaring side glance.

“Can’t do that, Chuckles. Not til you calm down. You’re making it positively icy in here with all that pent up energy. I’m waiting for you to explode into ice crystals. That ice magic stuff...is that involuntary? Like sweating ice cubes, or are you just showing off again? My readers would like to know.”

Varric....oh, Varric, why couldn’t he just leave him alone? The sound of Dorian’s boots came rapping down the stone steps leading to the rotunda. Gods, was there nowhere private in this damned place? Frustrated, Solas swept one of the books off his desk with a sweeping gesture and sent it crashing against the far wall. A loud whistle echoed in the room as Dorian announced his presence.

“Well, someone is in a bit of fit, aren’t they?” He and Varric met eyes and drifted together to form an audience Solas did not want. He pulled his chair out from his desk and collapsed into a stewing heap, brooding upon his frustration.

“I wish to be left alone, in case I was not crystal clear.” He turned his chair until his back faced them and their curious faces.

“Did I miss something? I’m getting the feeling that I missed something, and you know how much I hate missing the good stuff, Varric!” Dorian goaded him.

“Yeah....you missed something alright.” Varric could barely contain a smile, Solas could hear it in his voice.

Solas closed his eyes and sank lower in his chair, breathing deeply. In. Out. In. Out. But the calming exercise did not relieve the tension in his clenched jaw.

“Tattle tale, do tell!” Dorian’s voice was coy and playful, giddy from excitement. There was a pause as Solas dreaded Varric’s next words.

“It seems that Chuckles asked Ma’alin to marry him,” Varric whispered loudly. Solas rolled his eyes. They were worse than children.

Dorian’s genuine surprise was evident in his voice, which meant she hadn’t told him. Hadn’t told anyone in fact...

“What? Him? Well, I...so he? You mean that.....oooooh. So all this....wait. Oh no! Did she say?....” Dorian’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Did she say no?”

“Worse.” Varric said, mirth evident in his voice.

“Worse? What could be worse than...” Dorian was abruptly cut off when Solas pushed back his chair and spun on them, his irritation barely masked. Solas grabbed a book, spun on his heel, and briskly walked from the rotunda through the door leading into the courtyard. He heard Varric’s chuckle as he passed through the door and his reply.

“She said _yes_.”

__________________________________________________________________

Ma’alin paced nervously on the eastern parapet above the fortified walls of Skyhold, or at least the semi-fortified walls....this side was crumbling from old damage. She would need to remember to speak to the builders about that tomorrow along with a million other things she needed to focus on but...not now. No, now was the time for pacing and absently wringing her hands. This can’t be real, she thought. I’m dreaming. I’m asleep and I’m dreaming and any moment I’m going to wake up. She stepped in a puddle of rain upon the mortared stones and stopped, startled by her own reflection she saw there. She leaned closer, her image wavering in the ripples, and she traced the vallaslin of Mythal upon her cheeks where it should have been but was no longer.

This was real. She touched her naked skin, no longer feeling the raised skin from the tattoos. It was as if they had never existed, as if that moment from her past had been erased. She had erased a part of herself and she had already forgotten about it. She thought of what that meant and how she could never go back to a clan. She thought of how she was no longer one of the Dalish. She furrowed her brow and scowled, swiping away the shallow pool with her hand and splattering the stone walls with the murky water. She was not Dalish. Her father may have been, but she never was, so of course she had not mourned the removal of the vallaslin. In truth, she had already forgotten about it.

But there was one thing she could not forget. She was betrothed to the Dread Wolf. That fact now seemed to eclipse everything. Feeling suddenly light headed, she needed to sit down. Ma’alin slid down the dark gray stones, her back propped against the railing of the parapet, and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them for comfort. The sounds of Skyhold were drifting up from below. So many people...Skyhold was bursting at the seams with people now. Merchants. Soldiers. Politicians. Courtiers. Sisters of the Chantry. Every day normal life was proceeding as usual down below. But today was not normal for her and it would never be again.

She and Solas had spent the rest of the night after he proposed to her in the small cave behind the waterfall with the walls painted with images of her past. She wanted to be with him, to kiss him, to see him as she had never seen him before. Her senses had been overwhelmed with the realization of who, and what, he was. Her hands were shaking when she brought them to his face, searching his eyes as he had always searched hers when looking for the truth. His eyes were open, soft yet apprehensive, just as scared as she was of rejection. The veil that had separated him from her had finally fallen and she could see things in him she had only ever dreamed existed. In that moment she felt the totality of just how ancient Solas’ soul truly was and it shook her to her core. She had kissed him with trembling lips, too afraid to speak. His cool fingers caressed her cheeks where the vallaslin had been and when he found his answer reciprocated in her kiss his fingers became entangled in her hair, pulling her closer into him. A feral groan rose from his chest as he nearly crushed her against him as if trying to merge two into one. He had kissed her until she was dizzy and gasping for breath, her lips swollen from the insistence they both felt to convey their unspoken passions through molten kisses.

“Say it. I need to hear you say it, Ma’alin. Do you love me? Do you want to be with me? Tell me truly, can you love me?” His voice was husky and deep, insistent and pleading. Love me, he was pleading, love me for who I am and not who the world sees.

Ma’alin began to kiss his face, her hands cupping his cheeks, “I love you.” Kissing his eyelids and his beautiful cheekbones, “I love you.” Kissing his jawline, his forehead, “I love you.” And then kissing away the warm tears that slowly rolled from his eyes and down the curves of his face, “I love you. I love you. You could have a million different names and I would love you, Solas.” She kissed his lips softly. “My Dread Wolf.” She kissed him slowly. “My Fen’Harel.” Solas shivered beneath her touch, his eyes burning into her with such intensity it made her insides quiver. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him until his shivering had stopped. “My vhenan, I only want to be with you,” she whispered to him, caressing his face. He buried his face in her shoulder, pressing against her as his fingers grasped her waist, and he took a long, deep breath. When he leaned back she tucked her chin to look up at him, playfully catching his gaze. “Is that a smile I see?” She tugged at his shirt as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and cleared his throat. A small, coy smile began to appear on his lips and mirth had returned to his eyes. Solas leaned in closer to her.

“Promise me you will never change, vhenan.” He took her hands in his and gently kissed the palm of each hand, lingering over the mark as it began to flutter beneath his touch. He hesitated for a moment. “Ma’alin, there are other things that I need to tell you...things about the mark and how to control it.”

“It can wait, Solas.” She kissed him again, his lips curving into a smile as she pressed her lips to his. Everything was perfect once more, or as perfect as it could be in their world dominated by constant threat and the demands of the Inquisition. But at that moment he was just a man and she was not the Inquisitor and in that small hidden cave it felt as if time had stood still.

That was two days ago. They had traveled for a day and a half sharing laughs and stories, making love under the stars, and had arrived back at Skyhold late last night only for reality to douse her joy like ice water on the skin. She awoke this morning in his arms but they both seemed on edge, each acting as if they were awaiting the moment when the other one would say they had changed their mind. Ma’alin felt her brow furrow as her hands clenched. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but something had thrown off their balance upon arriving back here.

Was she imagining the tension? What if he did change his mind? What if he regretted asking her? She threw a crumbled stone across the walkway in frustration. Why wouldn’t he change his mind? What did she have to offer him? When comparing her life to his, she must seem like such a child! She wouldn’t even be alive if he had not been there to save her time and time again. Gods, she still couldn’t believe that Solas had been the wolf! But her dreams, her visions of him all made much more sense now. Her mind seemed to know the truth before she did, and that irked her. Her thoughts lingered there and she began to think of the tales of the Evanuris, and of the hot-headed and arrogant trickster Fen’Harel who had betrayed them all. She didn’t believe that, not really, but that was how the stories went. As a young girl, she always imagined him as a rebel and a wild card, someone who didn’t obey the rules because for him there were no rules. She could see glimpses of Fen’Harel in Solas and she had come to realize that she preferred the stoic Solas who’s smile lit up his face to the devil-may-care version of Fen’Harel. She realized he’d given her a glimpse into his world when he brought her to the ballroom in the fade. He had tried to tell her then. He had tried to tell her at Halamshiral at the Orlesian ball. He had dropped hints many times. The fact that he had obviously wanted to tell her many times before took some of the edge off. She closed her eyes and kicked out one leg, relaxing and sinking further against the ancient stone walls of Skyhold.

A muffled cry startled her as someone tripped over her foot and went sprawling onto the worn stone pathway of the parapet. “Oh!” Ma’alin dove to put her hand between the rough stones and the falling person’s head, barely catching them in time. She landed hard but she had broken their fall. Wincing, she opened her eyes and swallowed hard. Sprawled beneath her was a very surprised Cullen.

“Commander? Are you alright?” she asked, concern in and surprise in her own voice.

Cullen absently rubbed the back of his head and glanced to see if there was blood. Finding none he replied, “Yes, it appears I am. You have fast instincts, Inquisitor.” He suddenly looked a bit nervous, his eyes darting around to take in their surroundings.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Cullen. I can fetch the surgeon...”

Cullen quickly held out his hands to halt her further questioning. “I assure you I am fine. Perhaps, I would be better if you were not laying on top of me.”

Ma’alin blushed furiously. Had it been anyone but Cullen she would have had a laugh as she rolled off of him but that would not be appropriate with Cullen. There was still an uneasy tension between them,despite their attempts at an easy friendship. Cullen stood stiffly, dusting off his coat. Ma’alin picked up the papers he had been carrying and handed them to him.

“What are you doing up here, Inquisitor? Not that it’s any of my business, but shouldn’t you be down there? You do still have a wedding to plan, do you not?” Cullen’s voice was very matter-of-fact with a slight edge he couldn’t conceal.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose I do. How did you know?” Ma’alin had a good idea, but she had really wanted to tell him herself.

“A little bird named Varric told Dorian and he’s telling everyone. I think he took great pleasure in telling me.” Cullen’s eyes met hers as they both noted the sound of jealousy in his voice. He looked away, cleared his throat, and put on a warm smile. “Congratulations, Inquisitor. I do wish you much happiness. After all of this, you truly deserve it.”

“Do you mean that, Cullen, or are we just acting as polite friends,” she asked softly,

“I mean it, Ma’alin. I’m not perfect, as you well know, but I have few things in this world that have not been taken from me and my honesty is my one redeeming trait.” He smiled wryly. “I do wish you much happiness and I hope Solas is the man to give you all that you wish for. However, would you mind if I....well, that is, would you think less of me if I were to not attend the wedding festivities? I’m not much for parties and I wouldn’t want to dampen your special day.”

Ma’alin’s heart sank in her chest. Cullen still had feelings for her? “Even now, Cullen?” She said without thinking and felt foolish immediately afterwards.

Cullen bit his lip and stared at her boots for a long moment before answering quietly. “Even now. Perhaps more now than before. I’m sorry, Inquisitor, it’s not something I can just will away.”

They stood in silence for a long moment, each lost for words. Ma’alin broke the silence first. “I wanted to tell you first, Cullen. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to.”

Cullen raked his fingers though his hair, becoming agitated. “You must think I’m a lovesick fool.”

“No, I’ve never thought that. I always had respect for you, especially when you decided to stop taking lyrium. It takes monumental strength to overcome something like that. In time, you will overcome this and I will be a distant memory.”

Cullen slowly shook his head and pursed his lips, his brow furrowed. “Never. That will never happen to my memories of you.”

Ma’alin came closer to him, reaching up and resting her palm against his stubbled cheek. Instinctively, Cullen’s eyes closed and he leaned into her palm. “Then may you remember me fondly and with a slight smile, knowing that I care for you deeply, Cullen.” Cullen’s gloved hand rose to hers, pressing her hand firmly against his skin. He was so close she could smell wisps of elderflower and oakmoss on his skin. Tenderly he took her hand in his, kissed the back of her hand, and held her fingers firmly in his.

“Always, my lady.” With a wistful smile and a small bow, he left her alone once again. Ma’alin breathed deeply and leaned against the fortified wall, resting her forehead against the cool stone.

She needed to get away for a while. She needed to gather her thoughts and put things in perspective. Times like this she desperately wished she had a mother, someone wise and knowing to guide her, someone who had seen the world and....wait, jerked to attention with a thought. Ma’alin stood on her tip toes and looked over the wall and down into the courtyard, spying a dark haired woman accompanied by a young boy as they walked into the Great Hall.

“Morrigan,” she whispered. If she hurried, she could catch the dark witch in the gardens. She quickly dropped over the wall to a rooftop below, raising a few eyebrows by doing so, and began making her way through the dark halls of Skyhold unnoticed.

Ma’alin arrived to find the courtyard curiously empty. It must have been time for mass in the hall for the faithful of the Chantry. Rather then busy voices, she found herself suspended in hushed quiet. A voice rose quietly from behind her, taking her by surprise.

“You’re the Inquisitor.” She turned slowly and was greeted by the curious gaze of Kieran, Morrigan’s son. “Mother never told me the Inquisitor was an elf.”

Ma’alin couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose the ears gave me away, didn’t they?”

Kieran shook his head in disagreement, perplexed at her answer. “No. It is your blood. Your blood is very old. I saw it right away.”

Ma’alin stepped closer to the curious boy who had the eyes of an old soul. “What did you see, Kieran?”

“Your blood is old, like mine. It feels like...”

“Kieran,” Morrigan’s smokey voice cut him off and Ma’alin couldn’t help but feel that had been intentional. “Are you bothering the Inquisitor?”

“Of course not, mother. Did you see what is on her hand?”

Morrigan smiled faintly. “I did see. And now it is time to return to your studies, little man.” Without protest, Kieran gave an accommodating nod and left them alone in the garden.

“Hmph. My Son. So curious.” Morrigan’s tone was bordering on pride and it was evident in her eyes the unmeasurable affection she felt for him.

“Curiosity is a good trait to have. Kieran is a unique boy. Perhaps his inquisitiveness will earn him my position, and I can retire.” Ma’alin sat upon the nearest bench but Morrigan preferred to stand, a show of power she suspected.

“That would never be. It is my job to protect him from anyone or anything that means him ill will. As the Inquisitor, he would have a constant target on his back, as you well know.” Morrigan’s eyes met hers, unwavering, as she watched Ma’alin like a hawk.

“Your son is inquisitive. I suspect that’s a trait he inherited from his mother.” A small smirk played at the corner of Morrigan’s lips. “So tell me...in your travels, have you ever encountered something, someone, that made you question everything you thought you knew?”

“Not that’s a curious question, Inquisitor.” Morrigan looked over her shoulder, as if looking for watchful eyes around them, and sat on the bench next to Ma’alin. She sat silently for a moment, staring into the distance. After a long moment, she broke her silence.

“My mother. She would often say that fate is mistaken for luck, something I never fully grasped until I learned the fate she had in store for me. I will spare you the details, but suffice to say that I learned that my mother was more....much more....than she appeared. Everything I knew up to that point had been a ruse. Now I dedicate my energy to raising my son and being a better mother than she could have ever been.”

“And what about the in-between? The time between finding out and having Kieran? Did it shake your beliefs? Your faith? Did it change how you looked at....her?” Ma’alin had almost stumbled and said Solas’ name.

“You are inquisitive, Inquisitor. I don’t ascribe to faith in the Maker, I find it a nonsensical practice. There are more gods in this world that have come and gone than can even be remembered. Those who pray at the foot of a statue receive no more blessing than those who say their prayers over a pint at the brothels.” Morrigan glanced her way and an expression of realization hit as she remembered her audience. “Ah, but you are Dalish...I meant no offense. Faith is a personal thing. You say your prayers to the Dread Wolf. I say mine over my son. But I do not believe gods will swoop in and save him. That is my job.”

Ma’alin kicked at a small stone at the toe of her boot. “And what do you know of the elven gods?”

Morrigan twisted in her seat to face Ma’alin, her eyes fixing upon hers. “One must ask what were the old gods? The elven gods? Who were they? What secrets did they possess? Was it some divine event that created these god beings that walked the earth, shaping history and ruling their people? Or was it something less divine and more mystical? What if these gods were nothing more than powerful mages, bending people and magic to their desires and will? Do you think they are still worthy of worship and able to answer your prayers then?”

Ma’alin knew part of that answer. “Have you ever encountered tales of mages assuming the mantle of godhood in order to serve their people? Protecting them and watching over them?”

Morrigan smirked. “Andraste.” They shared a smile and glanced at the huge statue of Andraste that dominated the garden. Ma’alin had a difficult time reconciling the idea of Andraste and the Dread Wolf sharing traits.

“The Herald of Andraste,” Morrigan mused aloud. “I wonder if it’s a yoke you’ve become accustomed to bearing or if you will shed your chains one day and leave this all behind.”

Ma’alin felt there was hidden insult in those words or at least a barb to inspire a reaction for Morrigan’s amusement. “This is temporary. It can not last. Each day we grow larger, stronger, and more of a threat to others. There will come a moment when I will falter and it will all surpass me, no longer in my control. When that day comes it will be the end of my duty.” Ma’alin picked up the small, jagged rock at her boot and turned it in her fingers. “The fate of the Inquisition lies in tyranny or corruptness.” She held the small stone in her hand, the mark flaring until it became dust that she let slip between her fingers, Morrigan’s eyes never leaving her. “I pray for the wisdom to know when it’s duty is done and to have the strength to take it down, if need be, to preserve it’s mission.”

“You do not wish to rule? Most would desire the power to rule and shape Thedas as no other can. That is a power you can not buy.” Morrigan made it sound tempting but it was a loaded question.

“I never desired great power, Lady Morrigan.”

“Which makes you the best candidate to wield it, if you can keep your wits about you. But there is a part of you that demands it, even if you justify your reasons as safe-keeping it, as was evident at the Well of Sorrows.” The edge had returned to her voice, a slight bitterness at the memory of Ma’alin taking the powers of the well for herself over Morrigan.

“Perhaps you see me more than I see myself. Or perhaps you misjudge my reasons.” Ma’alin said cautiously.

“Perhaps. I am many things but I am not a mind reader. If I were, I would know what it is that made you come to me and seek my counsel.”

Kieran entered the courtyard again, seemingly out of place with his sense of ‘otherness’. Whatever else Morrigan was, it was evident by looking at her son that she was a good mother to him.

“Sometimes I find moments in this chaos where I just want to feel something that is real, simple, and pure. I’m not sure what I was looking for when I came here but it’s reassuring to see that what we do here matters for Kieran and other children and it’s a good reminder of why we take on the Chantry and the crown in addition to Corypheus. I want to make this world better, if I can. That’s more important than any other hurdle I’ve stumbled upon along the way.”

“Ah, a sense of perspective has been gained. And is that what you aimed to achieve in coming here, Inquisitor?” Morrigan asked almost teasingly.

Ma’alin nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.”

Morrigan rose from her seat and gave a slight nod. “Come back anytime, Inquisitor.” She held her hand out to Kieran and they disappeared amongst the rows of hedges.

“Solas...” she whispered.  
________________________________________________________________

Solas was in the small kitchen on the east wing of the keep, arranging a small plate of fruit and cheeses. He’d had a while to brood, to think, and to resolve himself to the situation at hand. He could not undo what he had done, not now, and he was responsible for Ma’alin’s hesitancy. He did what he had feared he would do; he had shaken her unshakeable faith and he had no one to blame but himself. Once again, he had been selfish and not strong enough to end it with her as he should have. Now he was certain she would end it for him.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not hear the soft footfall of the Inquisitor until small arms embraced him from behind and a warm cheek pressed between his shoulders. He closed his eyes and breathed a small sigh of relief. Her fingers trailed away as she came to his side, observing the neatly arranged tray before him.

“I hope you made some for me, I’m absolutely ravenous.” Placing a hand upon the counter, she lifted herself gracefully upon the counter and took a seat close enough that her knee brushed his arm. Solas looked at her and could not help fighting back a small smile. Her hair was mussed, obviously having spent time on the parapets in the strong winds, and her cheeks were pink from the cool air.

“I haven’t seen you all day, vhenan. Something to share?” His words sounded too cool and distant to his own ears. He recognized his own insecurity in his voice and wondered if she noticed it to.

Ma’alin placed her small hand on his arm and tugged at his sleeve, drawing his attention to her. “I love you, Solas.” She said it so simply, so matter of factly, that he was at a loss for words. With all that had happened between them in the past few days, all the questions raised, all the doubts he had struggled with and she was able to just say it as if nothing had changed.

“Solas?” She snapped her finger infront of his nose, gaining his attention. “Solas, what are you thinking?” Her eyes were transfixed on his but there was no expectation there. She was giving him the freedom if he wanted it...

“I was thinking that you could still change your mind, and that I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Ma’alin rolled her eyes. “Is that all?” She reached across his arm to grab a raspberry from his plate but he quickly pulled it away from her reach, earning him a look of disappointment.

“Is that all? You can’t be serious. Have you considered the repercussions of...” Ma’alin snaked out her arm and grabbed a raspberry from his plate before he would withdraw it further and popped it in her mouth, smirking at him with a wink. Solas stood frozen, watching her eat his raspberry. This morning he awoke to a very different woman than the one who sat here almost teasing him now. 

Ma’alin swallowed and licked the red juice from her finger. “Yes, Solas. I’ve considered it. I’ve thought of nothing else all damned day. I thought of all the questions that are left unanswered and what this means for me. For us. At the grove, in the little cave, learning who you are was something so fantastical that it felt unreal. But when we reached Skyhold it was if it all came crashing down upon me. The weight of the unknown felt too great to bear. I know what you are, or were, but that doesn’t explain how you came to be what and who you are and that scares me.”

Solas knew exactly how she felt. Upon their return to Skyhold something had flipped. Reality had set in and all he could think was what a fool he had been for telling her something that would only burden her further. It was that realization that had made him regret asking her to marry him.

Ma’alin stole another raspberry. “Then I realized something very important. It doesn’t matter, Solas.”

“Doesn’t _matter_?” He pushed the tray away from her reach when she tried to steal another raspberry. “You say that so casually that it causes me to feel even more alarm. Perhaps it would be best if we...”

Ma’alin rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not saying that it’s _not_ important. I’m not even saying that I don’t have concerns. What I’m saying is that it _does not matter_ , Solas.” She took his hand between hers and pulled him near until he stood before her, her knees pressed against his hips and holding him close. “You may be many things, Solas, as am I. But when it’s just us, you are _not_ Fen’Harel and I am _not_ the Inquisitor. You are you. And I love you. And I won’t ever let something that doesn’t matter come between us.”

Solas kissed the back of her hand. In moments like these, she was more real than anyone he had ever known and far more wise than himself. “Nor will I, Ma’alin.”

“I have questions, so many questions, and I’m still a bit angry with you. But the time for questions will come later. So, it’s settled then? No more avoiding one another?” He shook his head no as he kissed the inside of her wrist, creating a shiver up her arm.

“And no more trying to push me away for my own good?” She asked.

“Never,” he whispered against the the skin inside her forearm as his lips brushed against it. Another shiver...he reached for a raspberry when she wasn’t looking.

"Have you changed your mind about marrying me, Solas? Do you want to take it back?" Her voice was soft but eager, her small hands clutching his shirt more tightly. 

"No. And no. But I would honor your wishes if you have changed your mind. Have you changed your mind, Ma'alin? Do you still wish to marry me?" 

Her eyes grew large. "No! I mean, yes! I mean, I have not changed my mind. And yes, I do still want to marry you." Solas had felt his heart sink there for a moment but the flush of her cheeks from her blunder made him smile. 

“And furthermore,...”

Solas put his finger to her lips to stop her words and got a sly look in return. “Now is not the time for talking, Ma’alin.” He held up a single raspberry before her and pressed it to her lips, running it along the length of her full bottom lip. The red juice stained it a lovely pink color. Her lips parted and he placed the raspberry between her teeth, taking her face in his hands. He leaned in to kiss her, the sweet juiciness of the berry upon his tongue and his lips as her body rose to meet his. Her lips met his with the bright burst of the raspberry between them, making her lips smile against his as a small laugh of hers bubbled up between them. He drank in her kiss and her laughter and let go of his worries and frustration. She was real and this was real and it was all he wanted.

 

 

 

 


End file.
